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THE  PURITAN  AND  HIS  DAUGHTER, 


THE  PUEITAN 


HIS    DAUGHTER 


BY 


J.   K.   PAULDINO, 

AUTHOR   OF   "  THE   DUTCHMAN'S   FIRESIDE,"  ETC. 


VOLUME  I. 


NEW  YORK: 
BAKER     AND     SCRIBNER, 

145   NASSAU  STREET  AND  36   PARK   ROW. 

1849. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1849,  by 

BAKER    AND    SCRIBNER, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern 
District  of  New  York. 


Stereotyped  and  Printed  by 

C.   W.    BENEDICT, 

001  William  street. 


CONTENTS   OF  VOL,   I, 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAGE 

Some  Account  of  a  Very  Ancient  and  Obscure  Family — An  Acci- 
dent which  Gives  Coloring  to  a  Whole  Life — A  Conventicle — 
A  Crop-Eared  Preacher — A  Surprise  and  a  Capture — Danger 
of  Being  in  Bad  Company.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .9 

CHAPTER  II. 

Israel  Baneswright,  the  Crop-Eared  Preacher  and  his  Family — 
Zeal  and  Bigotry  often  mistaken  for  each  other — How  Great 
Changes  are  often  brought  about  in  the  Opinions  of  Men — 
Grand  Perspective  View  of  Justice  Shorthcse — Misfortunes 
never  come  single,  as  Harold  Experiences — Trial  and  Sentence 
of  the  Crop-Ear — A  Disagreeable  Intrusion,  and  a  Prophecy 
fulfilled — A  Separation,  and  Harold's  Feelings  thereupon.  .  25 

CHAPTER  III. 

A  Short  Foray,  into  the  Domain  of  History — Harold  in  great 
Jeopardy — Interposition  of  Providence  in  the  Disguise  of  Old 
Gilbert  Taverner— Justice  Shorthose  and  his  Officials  Abscond 
— A  Secret  concerning  Susan  Baneswright — Harold  in  great 
Perplexity,  from  which  He  is  at  length  Relieved  by  the  Inter- 
position of  Dan  Cupid — 'He  becomes  not  only  a  Roundhead,  but 
a  Republican,  and  Abjures  Passive  Obedience  and  Non-Resist- 
ance for  ever.  .......  52 


421820 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

PAGE 

Harold  joins  the  Parliamentary  Forces  —  the  Fortunes  of  War  — 
He  Makes  Acquaintance  with  a  Man  of  whom  there  is  but  One 
Opinion,  and  of  Another  of  whom  there  are  Many  —  Scene  on 
the  Field  of  Battle,  and  Exit  of  Israel  Baneswright—  Change 
from  the  Field  of  Blood  to  the  Fields  of  Rural  Life—  Coelebs  in 
Search  of  a  Wife  —  Finds  by  Chance  what  He  Missed  in 
Seeking  ............  72 

CHAPTER  V. 

Metaphysical  Subtilties  —  Anticipation  and  Reality  —  Obstinacy  and 
Principle  —  Some  Morsels  of  \Visdom  Crammed  down  the 
Reader's  Throat  in  Spite  of  His  Wry  Faces  —  A  Prophecy  —  An 
Orthodox  Serving  Man  —  Disgust  of  Harold  at  the  Profligacy  ot 
the  Cavaliers  —  Meditates  a  Decisive  Movement,  and  Does  a  very 
Foolish  Thing  —  A  Complaisant  Helpmate  —  Eulogium  on  the 
New  World  —  A  Voyage  in  Search  of  the  Philosopher's  Stone, 
to  wit,  Happiness  ..........  10) 

CHAPTER  VI. 

The  New  World—  Harold  under  the  Necessity  of  Changing  his 
Original  Destination  —  Purchases  a  Plantation  —  Some  Account 
of  his  Nearest  Neighbor,  Master  Hugh  Tyringham  and  His 
Right-hand  Man,  Gregory  Moth,  the  Oxford  Scholar—  A  Small 
Dose  of  Wisdom  from  our  Old  Friend,  and  an  Apology  to  the 
Reader  —  A  Young  Crop-Ear  Lady  and  a  'Young  Gentleman 
Cavalier  Introduced—  The  Cavalier  and  the  Roundhead  don't 
Agree  any  Better  than  the  Young  People  —  Consequences  of 
Forbidding  Young  Folks  to  Do  What  they  Have  no  Mind  to.  .  130 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Rights  of  Authors  —  Wisdom  of  Gregory  Moth  —  The  Author  Re- 
minded of  One  of  his  Heroines  —  Something  that  May  perad- 
venture  Give  Offence  to  Nine-tenths  of  Our  Readers  —  Little 
Miriam  Habingdon  Hunts  up  an  Excitement  —  An  Accidental 
Meeting—  A  Parting—  Langley  Tyringham  Calls  Names.  .  .  161 


CONTENTS.  Vll 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

PAOK 

Eulogium  on  the  Divine  Tobacco  Pipe — A  Discussion  and  a  Catas- 
trophe—The Cavalier  Grows  Peremptory— A  Soliloquy— The 
Cavalier  for  once  Agrees  in  Opinion  with  the  Roundhead — 
Miriam  Talks  like  a  Simpleton,  and  Thinks  not  a  whit  more 
Wisely— Falls  Asleep  in  a  Profound  Doubt 188 

CHAPTER  IX. 

A  Great  Event  Signalized  by  a  Great  Feast — Transformation  of  a 
Boar's  Head— A  Red  Herring  on  Horseback— Tristrified  Flesh- 
Apology  for  Making  Merry  in  this  Miserable  World.  .  .  204 


DEDICATION, 


TO  THE  MOST  HIGH  AND  MIGHTY  SOVEREIGN  OF  SOVEREIGNS, 
KING   PEOPLE. 

MAY  IT  PLEASE  YOUR  MAJESTY — 

IT  was  the  custom,  previous  to  the  commencement 
of  Your  Majesty's  auspicious  reign,  for  every  judicious 
author  to  dedicate  his  work  to  some  munificent  po- 
tentate, who,  by  virtue  of  the  Divine  Right  of  grant- 
ing pensions,  held,  as  it  were,  the  purse-strings  of 
inspiration ;  or  to  some  neighboring  prince,  or  noble, 
whose  rank  in  the  State,  or  whose  reputation  for 
taste,  might  serve,  if  not  as  a  guarantee  to  the  merits 
of  the  work,  at  least,  in  some  measure,  to  overawe 
the  vinegarized  critics  from  falling  foul  of  it  with 
tomahawk  and  scalping-knife. 

I,  however,  may   it   please  Your    Majesty,    choose 


2  DEDICATION. 

rather  to  go  to  the  fountain-head — the  source  and 
grand  reservoir  of  dignity  and  power — and  scorn  to 
skulk  behind  the  outworks,  when  I  flatter  myself  I 
may  have  the  good  fortune  to  effect  a  lodgment,  in 
the  very  citadel  itself,  under  the  immediate  protection 
of  your  most  sacred  Majesty,  to  whom,  of  all  poten- 
tates, can  be  justly  applied  the  great  maxims  :  "  The 
king  can  do  no  wrong." — "The  king  never  dies." 

You  alone  reign  by  Divine  Right :  you  alone  inherit 
the  privilege,  and  exercise  the  power  of  judging  the 
past,  directing  the  present,  and  presiding  over  the 
future.  You  alone  are  the  great  arbiter  of  living  and 
posthumous  fame  ;  for  being  yourself  immortal,  it  is 
yours  to  confer  immortality  on  others.  Your  empire 
is  self-governed  and  self-sustained.  You  require 
neither  fleets,  armies,  nor  armed  police,  to  enforce 
your  decisions,  for  your  fiat  is  fate.  You  can  set  up 
kings  and  knock  them  down  like  nine-pins  ;  you  can 
make  and  unmake  laws  at  pleasure ;  you  can  make 
little  men  great,  and  great  men  little :  your  will, 
when  you  choose  to  exert  it,  is  despotic  throughout 
the  nations  of  the  earth,  for  Your  Majesty  is  the  only 
sovereign  that  ever  existed  who  could  justly  boast  of 
universal  empire. 


DEDICATION.  d 

Not  only  is  your  power  without  limits,  but  your 
judgment  infallible  in  the  selection  of  favorites,  and 
the  bestowal  of  honors.  If  you  call  a  pigmy  a 
giant,  a  giant  he  becomes  ;  and  if  you  dub  a  man  a 
fool,  the  wisdom  of  Solomon  cannot  save  him  from  the 
Hospital  of  Incurables.  The  reputation  of  heroes, 
statesmen,  sages,  and  philosophers,  is  entirely  at  your 
mercy  ;  you  keep  the  keys  of  the  Temple  of  Fame, 
and  none  can  enter  without  your  royal  permission. 
In  short,  when  Your  Majesty  issues  a  decree,  it  must 
be  carried  into  effect,  for  with  you  there  is  nothing 
impossible,  and  all  must  obey  him  who  is  himself  all. 

It  is  for  these,  and  other  special  reasons,  which  I 
forbear  to  enumerate,  lest  I  should  tire  Your  Ma- 
jesty's royal  patience,  that  I  have,  as  it  were,  turned 
my  back  on  the  rest  of  the  world,  and  selected  Your 
Majesty  as  mine  own  especial  Meccenas,  knowing  full 
well  you  are  of  all  patrons  the  most  munificent  and 
discriminating.  May  it  please  Your  Majesty  then  to 
issue  your  Royal  Bull,  directing  that  no  critic  shall 
presume  to  mangle  this  my  work  with  a  stone 
hatchet,  or  dissect  it  with  a  butcher's  cleaver,  unless 
he  can  give  a  good  reason  for  it :  that  it  shall  be 
puffed  and  trumpeted  to  the  uttermost  confines  "of 


DEDICATION. 


your  universal  empire,  insomuch,  that  it  shall  go 
through  as  many  editions  as  the  Pilgrim's  Progress, 
or  Robinson  Crusoe  :  that  all  members  of  Congress, 
past,  present,  and  future,  shall  be  furnished  with  a 
copy  at  the  expense  of  Your  Majesty,  and  what  is 
more,  be  obliged  to  read  it — unless  their  education 
has  been  neglected  ;  that  whoever  ushers  it  into  the 
world  shall  make  a  judicious  distribution  of  copies ; 
and  above  all,  that  Your  Majesty  will  order  and  direct 
some  munificent  Bibliopole  to  publish  it,  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  author. 

Relying  thus  on  the  powerful  aid  of  Your  Majesty, 
I  considered  it  my  interest,  as  well  as  my  duty,  to 
consult  Your  Majesty's  royal  palate  in  the  conception 
and  development  of  this  my  humble  offering  ;  and 
having  been  assured  by  an  eminent  publisher  that 
Your  Majesty  relishes  nothing  but  works  of  fiction 
and  picture-books,  I  hereby  offer  at  the  footstool  of 
your  royal  clemency  a  work,  which,  though  it  con- 
tains a  great  many  truths,  I  flatter  myself  they  are  so 
dextrously  disguised  that  Your  Majesty  will  not  be  a 
whit  the  wiser  for  them.  If  I  appear,  or  affect  to  ap- 
pear, as  an  adviser  or  instructor  to  Your  Majesty,  it  is 
not  that  I  have  the  presumption  to  suppose  that  Your 


DEDICATION.  5 

Majesty  requires  either  advice  or  instruction,  but  be- 
cause it  is  next  to  impossible  for  an  author  to 
dissemble  the  conviction  that  he  is  wiser  than  his 
readers. 

Having,  for  a  long  time  past,  been  sedulously  occu- 
pied studying  Your  Majesty's  royal  tastes,  I  am  not 
ignorant  of  your  preference  for  high-seasoned  dishes 
of  foreign  cookery,  most  especially  blood-puddings, 
plentifully  spiced  and  sauced  with  adultery,  seduction, 
poisoning,  stabbing,  suicide,  and  all  other  sublime  ex- 
cesses of  genius.  I  am  aware  also  that  Your  Majesty, 
being  yourself  able  to  perform  impossibilities,  believes 
nothing  impossible.  Possessing  this  clew  to  Your 
Majesty's  royal  approbation,  I  solemnly  assure  you  I 
have  gone  as  far  as  I  could  to  secure  it,  with  a  safe 
conscience.  I  have  laid  about  me  pretty  handsomely, 
and  sprinkled  a  good  number  of  my  pages  with  blood 
enough,  I  hope,  to  make  a  pudding.  If  I  have  any 
apology  to  make  to  Your  Majesty,  it  is  for  permitting 
some  of  my  people  to  die  a  natural  death,  a  thing  so 
unnatural  that  it  has  been  banished  from  all  works  of 
fiction  aiming  at  the  least  semblance  to  truth. 

I  am  aware,  may  it  please  Your  Majesty,  that  it  is 
one  of  the  established  canons  of  critical  and  other 


6  DEDICATION. 

criminal  courts,  that  killing  is  no  murder ;  and  that  a 
writer  of  fiction  is  not  amenable  to  any  tribunal,  civil, 
ecclesiastical,  or  critical,  for  any  capital  crime,  except 
murdering  his  own  story.  But,  may  it  please  Your 
Majesty,  I  am  troubled  with  weak  nerves,  and  my 
great  grandfather  was  a  Quaker.  I  am,  therefore, 
naturally  averse  to  bloodshed,  and  have  more  than 
once  nearly  fallen  into  convulsions  over  the  pages  of 
Monsieur  Alexandre  Dumas,  whom  I  consider  a  perfect 
Guillotine  among  authors.  In  short,  may  it  please 
Your  Majesty,  I  abjure  poisoning,  or  smothering  with 
charcoal,  and  confess  myself  deplorably  behind  the 
spirit  of  this  luminous  age,  which  is  as  much  in 
advance  of  all  others,  as  the  forevvheel  of  a  wagon  is 
ahead  of  the  hind  ones. 

Your  Majesty  will,  1  trust,  pardon  the  most  de- 
voted of  your  servants,  for  thus  intruding  on  your 
valuable  time.  But  it  is  a  notoriously  well-estab- 
lished fact  that  authors  are  a  self-sufficient  race,  who 
think  themselves  qualified  to  direct  Your  Majesty's 
opinions.  I  therefore  make  no  apology  for  so  univer- 
sal a  failing,  and  shall  limit  myself  on  this  head,  to 
beseeching  Your  Majesty's  forgiveness  for  introducing 
to  your  royal  patronage  so  many  honest,  discreet  wo- 


DEDICATION.  7 

men,  not  one  of  whom  hath  the  least  pretensions  to 
figure  at  doctors'  commons,  the  criminal  court,  or  in 
modern  romance. 

As  this  is  a  time  when  empires  are  overturned,  and 
potentates  exiled  by  romances  and  newspapers,  I 
deem  it  incumbent  on  me  to  conclude  this  my  humble 
Dedication,  by  assuring  Your  Majesty  that  I  have  not 
the  most  remote  intention  of  meddling  with  those 
dangerous  edge-tools,  politics  and  polemics,  any  far- 
ther than  seemed  necessary  to  render  probable  the 
conduct  of  the  actors,  and  the  incidents  of  my  story. 
I  solemnly  declare  that  I  have  no  idea  of  interfering 
with  Your  Majesty's  regal  prerogative  ;  that  I  have 
no  design  against  Your  Majesty's  royal  person ;  that  I 
am  neither  High-Church  nor  Low-Church,  Socialist, 
Red  Republican,  Anti-Renter,  Agrarian,  or  Philan- 
thropist, but  a  peaceable  disciple  of  the  doctrine  of 
passive  obedience  and  non-resistance  in  all  cases  where 
Your  Majesty's  prerogative  is  concerned. 

One  word  more,  may  it  please  Your  Patient  Ma- 
jesty. Not  considering  myself  as  writing  a  historical 
fiction,  or  bound  by  the  strict  rules  of  matter  of  fact, 
I  have  indulged  in  one  or  two  trifling  anachronisms, 
which  I  refrain  from  pointing  out,  in  order  that  Your 


8  DEDICATION. 

Majesty   may   have  the  pleasure  of    detecting  them 
yourself. 

I  am, 

May  it  please  Your  Majesty, 

Your  most  gracious  Majesty's 

Most  Faithful, 

Most  Humble, 

Most  Obedient, 

Most  Devoted  Servant, 

THE  AUTHOR. 


THE  PURITAN  AND  HIS  DAUGHTER, 


CHAPTER    I. 

Some  Account  of  a  Very  Ancient  and  Obscure  Family — An  Accident 
which  Gives  Coloring  to  a  Whole  Life— A  Conventicle— A  Crop- 
Eared  Preacher — A  Surprise  and  a  Capture — Danger  of  Being 
in  Bad  Company. 

IN  the  reign  of  King  Charles — courteously  styled 
the  Martyr — there  resided  in  an  obscure  corner  of  the 
renowned  kingdom  of  England,  a  certain  obscure 
country  gentleman,  claiming  descent  from  a  family 
that  flourished  in  great  splendor  under  a  Saxon  mo- 
narch whose  name  is  forgotten.  This  ancient  family, 
like  most  others  of  great  pretensions  to  antiquity,  had 
gone  by  as  many  names  as  certain  persons  who  live  in 
the  fear  of  the  law,  but  finally  settled  down  on  that  of 
Habingdon,  or  Habingden,  by  which  they  were  now 
known.  They  were  somewhat  poor,  but  very  proud, 
and  looked  down  with  contempt  on  the  posterity  of  the 
upstart  Normans  who  usurped  the  domains  of  their 
ancestors.  They  had  resided  on  the  same  spot  for 
more  than  eight  hundred  years,  during  which  time, 
not  one  of  them  had  ever  performed  an  act  worthy  of 
1* 


10  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

being  transmitted  to  posterity,  with  the  single  excep- 
tion of  one  Thurkill  Habingdonne  who  flourished  in 
the  reign  of  King  John — of  unblessed  memory — and 
who  is  recorded  to  have  given  one-third  of  a  caracut  of 
land,  and  a  wind-mill,  to  the  priory  of  Monks  Kirby, 
"  to  the  end,"  as  he  expresses  it,  "  that  his  obit  should 
be  perpetually  there  observed,  and  his  name  written 
in  the  Martyrologe." 

But,  as  hath  been  discreetly  observed,  the  most 
miserable  of  mankind,  as  well  as  the  most  in- 
significant, would  feel  still  more  miserable  and  in- 
significant, had  he  not  in  a  secret  corner  of  his  heart, 
something  to  feed  his  vanity  or  pride.  The  very  beg- 
gar will  prate  of  better  days,  deriving  a  strange  satis- 
faction from  contrasting  his  former  prosperity  with 
his  present  debasement,  and  those  who  have  nothing 
to  boast  of  in  the  present,  or  little  to  anticipate  in  the 
future,  revert  to  the  past  for  consolation.  Most  espe- 
cially is  this  the  case  with  those  who  derive  their  sole 
claim  to  respect  from  antiquity  of  descent,  and  mo- 
destly appropriate  to  themselves  all  the  exploits,  good, 
bad,  and  indifferent,  of  their  forefathers,  although,  if 
the  truth  were  fairly  told,  there  is  scarcely  one  of 
these  residuary  legatees  of  renown,  that  looks  back 
into  the  family  history,  who  would  not  find  it  stained 
with  actions  which,  did  he  really  feel  himself  identi- 
fied with  his  ancestors,  would  light  up  his  face  with 
the  blush  of  shame.  But  the  Habingdons  have  never 
figured  in  the  tempest  of  war,  or  the  dead  calm  of 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  11 

peace,  and  if  they  could  not  boast  of  illustrious  ac- 
tions, were  free  from  the  infamy  of  illustrious  crimes. 

From  the  manuscript  family  chronicle,  which  com- 
menced with  the  first  of  their  ancestors  who  learned 
to  write,  and  in  which  were  carefully  recorded  the  mar- 
riages, births,  deaths,  and  other  remarkable  events,  it 
appeared  that  during  this  long  period  of  eight  hundred 
years,  the  estate  had  passed  in  direct  descent  from 
father  to  son  ;  and  that  the  respective  proprietors  had, 
without  exception,  been  once,  at  least,  in  their  lives, 
foremen  of  the  Grrand  Jury.  It  is  also  especially  noted 
that  in  the  reign  of  Henry  the  First  one  of  the  Hab- 
ingdons  repaired  a  window  of  the  parish  church  at  his 
own  expense  ;  and  that  another  at  his  death  bequeath- 
ed a  mark  to  aid  in  the  support  of  a  charity  school. 
The  most  illustrious  of  them  all,  however,  was  one 
who  was  a  justice  of  the  peace,  and  a  churchwarden, 
and  who  on  divers  occasions  acted  as  deputy  to  the 
high  sheriff  of  the  county,  as  will  distinctly  appear, 
from  the  history  of  the  ancien$  borough  of  Slimbridge, 
now  extinct,  in  five  quarto  volumes.  No  wonder  the 
Habingdons  were  proud  of  their  descent,'  and  eschewed 
upstart  wealth  and  mushroom  titles. 

Though  the  original  patrimony  of  the  family  had, 
according  to  the  manuscript  record,  comprised  land 
enough  for  William  the  Conqueror  to  enrich  two  or 
three  of  his  beggarly  barons,  and  maintain  a  stupen- 
dous herd  of  swine,  it  now  consisted  of  little  more 
than  three  hundred  acres,  which  the  generous  Norman 
had  suffered  the  ancient  proprietor  to  retain  as  a  re- 


12  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

ward  for  not  grumbling  at  being  despoiled  of  the  rest. 
It  was  the  peculiar  hereditary  boast  of  the  family,  that 
they  had  thus,  for  so  long  a  period  of  time,  invariably 
held  up  their  heads  and  maintained  their  position 
among  the  gentry  of  the  county.  Whether  from 
some  providential  dispensation,  or  that  the  breed  was 
nearly  worn  out,  is  difficult  to  decide  ;  but  it  is  a  re- 
markable fact  sustained  by  the  manuscript  record,  that 
not  one  of  the  proprietors  of  the  estate,  after  so  great  a 
portion  was  appropriated  by  right  of  conquest,  ever 
had  more  than  two  sons.  The  eldest,  in  order  to  keep 
up  the  family  dignity,  was  always  the  sole  heir, 
though  by  some  peculiarity  of  tenure,  the  property 
was  not  entailed,  and  of  course  a  gentleman,  while 
the  younger,  if  there  chanced  to  be  one,  was  invari- 
ably an  idler,  and  being  too  poor  to  marry,  lounged 
about  the  house  and  neighborhood ;  hunted,  drank, 
and  Philandered  with  bar-maids  and  country  lasses, 
finally  died  a  bachelor,  and  was  buried  by  the  side  of 
his  forefathers.  The  daughters,  if  not  married  in  good 
time,  usually  entered  a  nunnery,  so  long  as  these 
refuges  for  desperate  maidens  flourished  in  England. 
If  there  ever  was  a  family  that  had  preserved  a  blame- 
less existence  throughout  so  long  a  period,  during 
which  the  world  had  been  so  often  tempest-tossed  by 
political  and  religious  revolutions,  it  was  that  of  the 
Habingdons,  not  one  of  whom,  up  to  the  time  in 
which  our  story  commences,  had  ever  been  sus-per-col, 
or  obliged  to  flee  his  country  for  felony,  treason,  or 
patriotism. 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  13 

The  present  head  of  this  ancient,  though  not  very 
illustrious  race,  was  Everard  Habingdon,  who  might, 
lawfully  aspire  to  the  dignity  of  an  Esquire,  which  he 
justly  observed  was  much  more  ancient  than  those 
mushroom  titles  which  had  sprung  up  amid  the  cor- 
ruptions of  the  feudal  system.  He  was  a  harmless 
person  ;  rather  reserved,  if  not  actually  shy ;  some- 
what of  a  scholar  ;  a  little  of  an  astrologer  ;  still  more 
of  an  antiquary,  and  as  loyal  as  a  colonial  official,  as 
might  be  expected  from  the  aristocratic  pretensions  of 
his  family.  But  there  was  a  still  better  reason.  He 
had  written  a  book  in  defense  of  the  Jure  Divmo,  and 
against  toleration,  in  which  he  maintained  that  the 
desire  of  liberty  was  the  sole  cause  of  the  fall  of 
Adam  ;  that  the  divine  right  of  kings  extended  equally 
to  doing  wrong;  and  that  princes  might  with  less 
hazard  give  full  liberty  to  men's  vices  and  crimes  than 
to  their  consciences.  In  short,  he  was  one  of  those 
blind,  wise  men,  who  imagine  that  religion  and  gov- 
ernments will  remain  the  same,  while  everything 
around  them  is  changing. 

.After  thus  publicly  committing  himself,  there  was 
no  room  for  backsliding  ;  and  though,  next  to  the  laws 
of  Edward  the  Confessor,  he,  cherished  a  profound  re- 
spect for  Magna  Charta,  which  venerable  old  parch- 
ment had  been  not  a  little  singed  by  James  the  First, 
as  well  as  his  successor,  yet  did  the  old  gentleman  con- 
tinue to  the  end  of  his  days  a  pattern  of  loyalty,  a 
perfect  exemplification  of  the  doctrines  of  passive  obe- 
dience and  non-resistance.  It  cannot,  however,  be 


14  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

denied  that  his  principles  were  once  grievously  assailed 
on  a  certain  occasion,  during  one  of  those  "Royal 
Progresses,"  not  uncommon  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth 
and  James,  when  the  sovereign  was  accustomed  to 
honor  certain  special  favorites  with  visits  that  nearly 
ruined  them,  his  cattle,  teams,  and  laborers  were  all 
put  in  requisition  in  behalf  of  the  royal  vagrant,  who 
was  exempted  from  the  ignominy  of  making  compen- 
sation by  virtue  of  the  prerogative.  But  with  all  these 
foibles  of  the  age,  he  was  in  the  main  an  honest, 
good-tempered  man,  full  of  the  milk  of  human  kind- 
ness towards  all  mankind,  except  Crop-ears,  Papists, 
Republicans,  and  Frenchmen. 

The  posterity  of  Squire  Everard  Habingdon  was  an 
only  son,  now  just  arrived  at  manhood,  who  was  call- 
ed Harold,  after  his  grandfather,  of  whom  honorable 
mention  would  be  here  made,  had  not  his  life  passed 
like  a  ship  over  the  sea,  or  a  bird  through  the  air, 
without  leaving  a  trace  behind.  They  were  the  last 
of  their  race,  the  father  and  son.  Every  other  branch 
of  the  old  family  tree  had  withered,  dropt  off,  rotted, 
and  mingled  with  its  parent  dust. 

The  Squire  had  in  the  downhill  of  life  committed 
suicide  on  the  family  dignity,  after  the  manner  of  many 
discreet  old  bachelors,  and  took  to  wife  a  buxom,  bloom- 
ing country  damsel,  who  had  approved  herself  eminently 
useful  in  keeping  his  house  in  order,  as  well  as  atten- 
tive in  time  of  sickness.  And  here  we  must  beg  per- 
mission to  remark  on  the  egregious  vanity  of  some 
would-be  wise  men,  who  imagine  there  is  such  a  thing 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  15 

as  the  enjoyment  of  perfect  freedom  in  this  world,  and 
who  therefore  studiously  avoid  entering  into  the  bonds 
of  matrimony,  in  the  hope  of  escaping  that  species  of 
government  which,  though  not  noticed  by  Aristotle,  or 
his  commentators,  is  supposed  to  be  of  primitive 
origin.  The  great  law  of  attraction  pervades  all  na- 
ture, and  the  constituent  parts  of  the  universe  might 
as  well  rebel  against  it,  as  man  attempt  to  resist  its 
power.  He  may  for  a  time,  perhaps,  escape  that  spe- 
cies of  witchcraft  which  is  the  common  attribute  of 
women,  who  have,  for  that  reason,  in  all  ages  been 
singled  out  as  the  peculiar  victims  of  superstition  and 
ignorance  ;  but  his  time  must  come  at  last,  and  some 
blooming  handmaid,  or  plump,  middle-aged  house- 
keeper, will  sooner  or  later  avenge  her  sex  by  exercis- 
ing despotic  sway  over  the  refractory  sinner,  who  pre- 
tended to  hold  them  in  defiance. 

Squire  Everard  Habingdon  is  a  case  in  point.  Just 
as  he  arrived  at  that  age,  beyond  which  it  is  said  a 
man  never  improves,  the  great  law  of  attraction  began 
to  operate  with  irresistible  force,  and  in  despite  of 
eight  hundred  years  of  uninterrupted,  unimpeachable 
purity  of  blood,  did  he  marry  a  damsel  without  a  pe- 
digree, and  who,  it  is  greatly  suspected,  had  not  a  drop 
of  Saxon  blood  in  her  veins.  By  this  fortunate  slip 
new  life  and  spirit  was  infused  into  the  old,  lazy  cur- 
rent, which  had  for  so  many  ages  slumbered  in  the 
bodies  of  the  Habingdons,  and  thrown  great  doubt  on 
the  theory  of  Dr.  Harvey.  There  is  nothing  like 
crossing  the  breed ;  and  if  the  present  race  of  kings, 


16  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

throughout  all  Christendom,  would  only  follow  the 
example  of  Squire  Habingdon,  there  is  every  reason  to 
believe  their  posterity  would  be  both  physically  and 
morally  greatly  improved. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  Harold,  the  sole  issue  of  this 
union  of  opposites,  was  a  striking  exception  to  all  his 
ancestors  on  record,  and  foreboded  a  revolution  in  the 
house  of  Habingdon.  He  was  of  a  hardy,  courageous, 
energetic,  and  determined  spirit ;  but  these  qualities, 
as  is  not  very  unusual,  veiled  themselves  under  the 
appearance,  and  indeed  reality,  of  a  cool,  quiet,  de- 
meanor, approaching  humility.  Yet  the  current  of  his 
feelings,  though  it  scarcely  murmured  or  rippled,  was 
deep  and  strong.  He  had  passed  some  time  at  Oxford, 
the  most  loyal  and  orthodox  of  universities ;  but 
having  tweaked  the  nose  of  a  scholar  who  insulted 
him,  and  who  was  son  to  a  nobleman,  the  patron  of 
sixteen  livings  and  four  fellowships,  and  refusing  to 
apologize,  he  was  expelled  as  contumacious,  and  re- 
turned home.  The  Squire,  in  accordance  with  his 
doctrine  of  passive  obedience  and  non-resistance, 
would  have  had  him  attempt  to  reinstate  himself  by 
complying  with  the  requisitions  of  his  college  ;  but 
Harold,  though  hitherto  the  most  docile  and  obedient 
of  sons,  demurred  on  this  one  occasion,  and  his  obsti- 
nacy proved  invincible.  From  this  time  he  occupied 
himself  either  in  desultory  reading,  in  rambling  in 
lonely  solitude,  banqueting,  or  rather  starving  on 
his  own  thoughts,  that  rose  and  died. away  without 
leading  to  action,  and  bearing  on  his  shoulders  the 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  17 

most  grievous  of  all  burdens  except  remorse — the 
leaden  weight  of  unoccupied  time.  Thus  he  lived, 
unacquainted  with  himself  and  unknown  to  others  ; 
nourishing  that  quiet,  latent  enthusiasm  which  formed 
the  basis  of  his  character,  until  called  upon  to  mingle 
in  the  strife  of  men,  and  take  part  in  that  terrible  con- 
flict now  approaching  a  crisis,  between  the  prerogative 
of  the  king  and  the  rights  of  the  people  .of  England. 

The  little  estate  of  Habingdon  lay  in  a  remote  part 
of  England,  where  Puritanism  had  made  no  inconsid- 
erable progress.  Though  persecuted  by  the  dominant 
church  according  to  invariable  custom,  until  the  new 
world  set  an  example  of  toleration  to  the  old,  that  in- 
domitable spirit,  so  essential  to  the  existence  and  pro- 
gress of  a  new  sect,  which,  like  a  strange  bird  in  a 
poultry-yard,  is  sure  to  unite  all  the  established  deni- 
zens against  it  on  a  first  appearance,  enabled  them  not 
only  to  resist  the  tide  of  persecution,  but  make,  at 
length,  inroads  on  their  persecutors.  The  milder  spirit 
of  the  age  had  abolished  the  rack,  the  stake,  and  the 
fagot  in  England,  yet  the  ruling  church  still  flourish- 
ed the  cat-o'-nine  tails  of  star-chamber  fines,  spiritual 
censures,  imprisonment,  stripes,  and  pillory.  It  did 
not  actually  inflict  martyrdom,  but  contented  itself 
with  slitting  noses  and  cutting  off  ears.  Still,  like 
certain  hardy  plants,  that  only  grow  more  sturdily 
for  being  crushed  under  foot,  the  severe  doctrines  of 
the  Puritans  continued  to  advance  as  irresistibly  as 
the  tide  of  the  ocean,  and  only  rose  the  higher  for  the 
barrier  that  opposed  them. 


18  THE    PURITAN    A\D    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

The  elder  Habingdon  scorned  these  Crop-ears,  as  he 
called  them,  with  his  heels,  and  so  did  the  younger, 
who  had  imbibed  a  deep-rooted  prejudice,,  amounting 
to  antipathy,  against  these  obstinate  schismatics,  at 
Oxford,  the  very  hotbed  of  loyalty  and  orthodoxy, 
where  it  is  said  pedantry  is  often  mistaken  for  learn- 
ing, and  bigotry  for  religion.  The  retired  situation  of 
this  part  of  the  country  proved,  however,  favorable  to 
the  growth  of  the  new  sect%  and  meetings,  known  by 
the  opprobrious  epithet  of  conventicles,  were  occasion- 
ally held  in  the  neighborhood.  It  so  happened  that  as 
Harold  was  one  morning  strolling  away  from  home  at 
random,  and  without  any  settled  purpose,  except,  per- 
haps that  of  killing  time  in  a  retirement  that  afforded 
little  amusement  and  less  excitement,  he  unexpectedly 
came  upon  one  of  those  unlawful  assemblages,  He 
was  roused  from  his  reverie,  at  first,  by  the  distant 
meanings  of  a  monotonous  hymn,  that  broke  on  the 
silence  of  a  calm  summer  day  with  a  simple  melody 
that  harmonized  with  the  scenery  around,  which  ex- 
hibited only  the  unstudied  graces  of  nature  in  her 
birth-day  attire  ;  and,  attracted  by  the  sound,  quietly 
approached  the  wood  whence  it  proceeded,  where  he 
found  a  number  of  plain  country  people  of  both  sexes 
and  divers  ages  reverently  listening  to  a  preacher,  so 
different  in  appearance  from  all  he-  had  ever  seen  or 
heard,  that  his  attention  was  at  once  attracted,  and  he 
unconsciously  became  an  auditor,  notwithstanding  his 
contempt  and  dislike  of  his  associates. 

He  appeared  without  any  of  the  insignia  of  a  Pro- 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  19 

testant  clergyman.  Instead  of  a  gown  and  band,  ho 
was  dressed  in  coarse  materials  fashioned  after  the 
garments  worn  by  the  country  people  at  this  period, 
and  both  his  language  and  manners  announced  that 
he  had  not  been  drilled  into  the  etiquette  of  the  estab- 
lished church.  His  face  was  pale  and  stern,  bearing  a 
striking  expression  of  intellectual  as  well  as  moral  vigor. 
He  wore  a  black  velvet  cap,  which  covered  his  ears 
but  left  his  brow  exposed,  and  addressed  his  little  au- 
dience in  a  voice  equally  melodious  and  powerful. 
He  spoke  of  the  corruptions  of  the  times  ;  the  profli- 
gacy of  the  higher  ranks,  and  the  laxity  of  morals 
among  the  people  who  had  been  Iqd  away  by  their  ex- 
ample/ He  declaimed  bitterly  against  the  innovations 
of  the  established  church,  and  the  persecution  of  those 
who  were  seeking  to  restore  the  purity  and  simplicity 
of  the  apostolic  times.  To  illustrate  this  last,  he  re- 
verted to  his  own  labors  and  sufferings.  He  bared  his 
arms  and  showed  the  marks  of  manacles  on  his  wrists  ; 
he  pointed  to  the  stripes  he  had  endured,  the  scars  of 
which  remained  indelible  on  his  shoulders  ;  and  finally 
pulling  off  his  cap,  the  audience,  which  listened  and 
gazed  in  reverent  silence,  perceived  that  he  was  desti- 
tute of  ears. 

"  These,"  he  exclaimed,  with  almost  supernatural 
vehemency,  "  these  are  the  testimonials  of  the  sin- 
cerity of  my  faith,  and  the  truth  of  my  doctrines  ; 
these  arc  the  rewards  I  have  received  for  following  the 
dictates  of  my  heart  and  my  understanding.  These 
badges  of  infamy,  which  in  better  times  marked  for 


20  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

contempt  and  abhorrence  the  lowest,  most  atrocious 
offenders  against  the  peace  of  society  and  the  rights 
of  their  fellow-creatures,  are  borne  by  one  who,  though 
standing  as  a  criminal  before  the  throne  of  grace,  and 
humbly  hoping  for  pardon,  is  innocent  of  any  crime 
against  his  brother  man,  for  the  welfare  of  whose  im- 
mortal soul  he  is  ready  and  willing  to  lay  down  his 
life,  and  triumph  in  the  sacrifice.  For  myself  I  care 
not,  for  I  knew  and  was  prepared  for  all,  and  more 
than  I  have  suffered.  But" — and  here  he  pointed 
towards  a  sober-looking  matron,  by  whose  side  sat  a 
young  woman  plainly  attired — "  But  look  you  there 
— those  whom  I  love  and  cherish  above  all  earthly 
treasures  have  shared  my  sufferings  and  disgrace. 
They  have  been  dragged  from  the  peaceful  fireside  of 
our  humble  home,  and  carried  away  like  the  daugh- 
ters of  Israel,  to  herd  with  criminals,  and  be  insulted 
by  turnkeys  and  jailors  ;  they  have  been  reviled,  out- 
raged, yea,  smitten  by  brutes  in  the  shape  of  men,  and 
I — I  was  compelled  to  look  on,  unable  to  afford  them 
help  or  consolation,  except  by  appealing  to  Heaven, 
and  offering  up  my  prayers. 

"  But  think  not,  my  brethren  and  sisters,"  continu- 
ed he  with  increasing  fervor,  think  not  that  I  complain 
of  my  sufferings  in  the  cause  of  truth  and  piety.  It 
is  one  of  the  inflexible  laws  of  the  Most  High  that  all 
good  here  as  well  as  hereafter  must  be  purchased  by 
sacrifices  ;  and  as  a  piire  and  holy  faith  is  the  greatest 
of  all  sublunary  blessings,  so  must  it  be  attained  by 
the  greatest  of  all  human  inflictions.  Let  none  that 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  21 

hear  me  be  afraid ;  let  none  despair  of  better  times, 
because  they  are  not  already  come.  Remember  that 
the  black  cloud  charged  with  the  bolts  of  heaven  is 
the  harbinger  of  a  brighter  sunshine,  and  that  after 
wandering  through  the  deep  shadows  of  the  cold  and 
chilly  wood,  we  suddenly  enter  the  region  of  light 
and  warmth.  Believe  me — I  say,  be  sure  that  the 
period  is  close  at  hand,  when  the  oppressor  shall  be 
laid  low,  and  the  beneficent  Messiah  reign  in  place  of 
the  tyrant." 

At  this  moment,  when  the  listening  group  was 
wrapt  in  the  silence  of  breathless  sympathy,  the 
preacher  was  interrupted  by  a  loud  voice,  exclaiming : 

"  Who  talks  of  the  tyrant  ?  He  must  mean  our 
most  gracious  sovereign  King  Charles.  Down  with 
the  Crop-ear,  seize  him  and  his  gaping  crew.  I'll 
teach  him  to  rail  at  the  king  and  the  church.  He 
shall  be  hanged  for  heresy  and  quartered  for  treason." 

A  posse  of  peace  officers,  as  by  courtesy  they  were 
called,  at  the  head  of  which  was  Master  Justice  Short- 
hose,  the  author  of  the  foregoing  speech,  now  rushed 
forward  into  the  midst  of  the  affrighted  group,  which 
was  taken  by  surprise.  A  few  of  the  most  alert  made 
their  escape  into  the  wood,  but  by  far  the  greater 
number  were  captured,  and  among  the  rest  our  friend 
Harold,  who  had  been  so  wrought  upon  by  the  crop- 
eared  preacher  that  he  was  completely  taken  by  sur- 
prise. But  if  this  had  not  been  the  case,  he  was  of 
a  mettle  that  never  stomached  running  away.  The 
Justice,  who  knew  him  well,  was  one  of  those  pliant 


22  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

tools  of  power,  who  have  been  so  often  described  that 
it  is  scarcely  worth  our  while  to  sketch  his  character. 
It  is  sufficient  to  say  that  he  was  ignorant,  servile  and 
tyrannical ;  and  that  he  had  a  most  stupendous  idea 
of  the  dignity  of  his  office,  considering  himself  the  im- 
mediate representative  of  his  most  sacred  majesty 
King  Charles  the  First.  He  recognized  Harold  among 
the  stricken  pigeons,  and  exclaimed — 

"  'Slife,  Master  Harold  Habingdon,  are  you  among 
the  Crop-ears  ?  Are  you,  too,  a  convert  to  the  whip- 
ping-post, the  pillory,  and  the  jail  ?  Pray  how  long  is  it 
since  you  aspired  to  the  martyrdom  of  losing  your  ears  ? 
Does  your  worthy  father  know  of  your  conversion  ?" 

To  this  insulting  address,  Harold  at  first  scorned 
any  reply  ;  but  recollecting  the  delicacy  of  his  posi- 
tion, and  the  severe  laws  against  conventicles,  he  at 
length  condescended  to  explain  his  appearance  on  this 
occasion  in  the  confident  expectation  of  being  released. 
But  he  reckoned  without  his  host.  Master  Shorthose 
was  a  magistrate  who  knew  but  one  law,  to  wit,  the 
will  of  his  superiors,  and  held  himself  bound  to  carry  it 
into  effect  without  discrimination,  though  in  so  doing 
he  outraged  every  principle  of  justice.  He  listened 
with  dignified  gravity,  and  responded  as  follows  : 

"  And  so,  Master  Harold,  you  came  here  accident- 
ally, and  listened  from  sheer  curiosity.  Don't  you 
know  that  curiosity  is  a  great  crime  in  these  perilous 
times,  and  that  a  man  listens  at  the  risk  of  losing  his 
ears?  'Slife,  sir,  you  have  incurred  a  prsemunire." 

"  A  prtemunire,   Master    Justice  ?     How  can   that 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  23 

be  ?  There  is  no  occasion  for  warning  me  to  appear, 
when  I  am  here  in  my  own  proper  person." 

"  Well,  then,  you  have  incurred  something  quite  as 
bad,  and  that  is  all  the  same.  You  are  caught  at  a 
conventicle,  listening  to  treason  and  blasphemy,  and 
that  is,  as  it  were,  becoming  an  accomplice  in  the  eye 
of  the  law,  being  as  how  it  was  your  duty  as  a  loyal 
subject  to  have  stopped  your  ears  and  run  away.  I 
shall  carry  you  to  jail  with  the  rest  of  the  elect,  but 
hope,  for  old  acquaintance  sake,  you  will  escape  with- 
out being  stuck  in  the  pillory,  or  losing  your  ears,  like 
yonder  preaching  rascal." 

"  Let  me  tell  you,  Master  Justice,"  quoth  Harold, 
"  let  me  tell  you,  sir  magistrate" — 

"  'Slife,  whom  do- you  call  sir  magistrate  ?  I  am  no 
knight,  that  you  should  thus  dub  me ;  and  what  do 
you  mean  by  addressing  me  with,  '  let  me  tell  you,'  as 
it  were  in  defiance  ?  Let  me  tell  you,  sir.  that  I  re- 
present his  most  sacred  majesty  King  Charles  of  bless- 
ed memory — no,  not  of  blessed  memory,  but  he  will  be 
in  good  time — and  that  you  insult  him  in  my  person, 
which  being,  as  it  were,  the  shadow  of  the  substance 
of  royalty,  is  equally  sacred." 

"  My  good  sir,"  began  Harold — 

"  G-ood  sir  !  'Slife,  do  you  confound  me  with  the 
vulgar  commonalty,  by  addressing  me  as  you  would  a 
clodhopper  ?  It  is  as  much  as  telling  me  I'm  no  bet- 
ter than  I  should  be." 

"  Well,  if  you  won't  hear—" 

"  Well !  is  that  the  way  you  speak  to  the  king's  re- 


24  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

presentative  ?  Could  you  not  add,  your  honor,  or 
your  worship,  or  something  smacking  of  mine  office 
and  authority  ?" 

"  In  two  words,  then,"  answered  Harold,  half  vexed 
and  half  diverted  at  the  tenacity  with  which  the  Jus- 
tice asserted  his  dignity  ;  "in  two  words,  since  you 
demur  to  my  style  of  addressing  you,  I  shall  merely 
say,  that  if  it  so  please  your  worship,  I  will  accompa- 
ny and  make  common  cause  with  these  good  people." 

"  Common  cause — good  people  !  Very  well,  sir, 
this  will  bring  you  within  the  statute,  which  says — 
Hem — hem.  But  come,  Master  Roundhead,  march." 

"  I  am  no  Roundhead,  and  you  have  no  right  to  call 
me  so,"  quoth  Harold,  somewhat  nettled. 

"  'Slife,  sir,  I  have  a  right  to  call  you  what  I  please 
in  the  king's  name.  Come,  Master  Habingdon,  if  that 
pleases  you  better.  You  shall  accompany  me  to  town 
with  these  good  people,  as  you  call  them.  You  shall 
be  lodged  in  jail  with  these  good  people,  and  it  shall 
not  be  my  fault  if  you  don't  pay  handsomely  for 
being  caught  in  such  good  company.  Come,  this  is 
the  best  way  ;  marry,  why  ?  because  it  is  the  only  one. 
Come  along — I  wouldn't  be  in  the  skin  of  your  ears  for 
all  the  fees  I  have  received  since  the  accession  of  his  sa- 
cred majesty  King  Charles  the  First  of  blessed — hem  !" 

Saying  thus,  master  Justice  Shorthose  placed  him- 
self at  the  head  of  the  posse,  and  marched  his  convoy, 
consisting  of  some  eighteen  or  twenty  persons  of  both 
sexes,  to  the  neighboring  town,  where  he  triumphantly 
lodged  them  in  prison,  there  to  await  the  justice  of 
their  country. 


CHAPTER   II. 

Israel  Baneswright,  the  Crop-Eared  Preacher  and  his  Family- 
Zeal  and  Bigotry  often  mistaken  for  each  other — How  Great 
Changes  are  often  brought  about  in  the  Opinions  of  Men — Grand 
Perspective  View  of  Justice  Shorthose — Misfortunes  never  come 
single,  as  Harold  experiences— Trial  and  Sentence  of  the  Crop- 
Ear — A  Disagreeable  Intrusion,  and  a  Prophecy  fulfilled — A  Se- 
paration, and  Harold's  Feelings  thereupon. 

As  these  were  times  when  jails  were  apt  to  be 
crowded,  Harold  was  deposited  in  the  same  room  with 
the  preacher,  who,  at  the  instance  of  the  Justice,  an- 
nounced himself  as  Israel  Baneswright,  of  Boston,  in 
Lincolnshire,  at  which  his  worship  rubbed  his  hands, 
and  exclaimed: 

"  0  ho !  I've  heard  of  you  before.  You  are  famous 
among  the  elect  for  abusing  his  sacred  Majesty 
through  the  nose,  and  dubbing  the  bishops  wolves  in 
sheep's  clothing.  Instead  of  calling  the  Pope  anti- 
Christ,  as  every  good  Christian  should  do,  you  bestow 
that  title  on  our  great  defender  of  the  faith,  Archbishop 
Laud,  who  I  honor  next  the  king  himself.  You  are 
the  man  for  faith  without  works,  but,  i'faith,  I'll  work 
you.  I  see  you've  lost  your  ears,  but,  by  good  luck. 


26  THE    Pl^ITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

your  nose  is  still  amenable  to  the  law,  and  as  all  your 
treason  and  blasphemy  escapes  through  that  organ,  it 
is  but  just  it  should  suffer  the  penalty." 

"  Say  your  say,  and  do  your  worst,  Master  Justice," 
replied  Israel  Baneswright,  "  I  am  prepared  to  suffer 
in  the  good  cause,  sustained  as  I  am  by  a  power  supe- 
rior to  the  archbishop  or  the  king. 

"  Hear  him!"  cried  the  Justice,  in  wrath;  "  Hear 
him — 'Slife,  I'll  teach  the  Crop-ear  who  is  the  strong- 
est before  I  have  done  with  him.  Clap  him  in  irons, 
and  see  that  he  does  not  escape  by  a  miracle." 

"  Angels  have  sometimes  ministered  to  the  relief  of 
the  saints  in  time  of  sore  jeopardy,"  replied  Israel,  re- 
verently, "  and  one  thing  I  know,  that  whatever  I  am 
doomed  to  suffer  by  the  divine  will,  that  will  shall  en- 
able me  to  bear." 

"  Hear  him  again,"  cried  the  Justice,  appealing  to 
his  officials.  "  The  blasphemer  has  the  presumption 
to  question  the  power  of  the  head  of  the  church,  and 
place  his  conscience  above  the  authority  of  the  king. 
Grag  the  Crop-ear,  that  he  may  spout  no  more  treason 
in  the  face  of  the  representative  of  majesty  and  jus- 
tice." 

The  officials  obeyed  with  orthodox  alacrity,  and 
Master  Shorthose  departed  with  his  followers,  locking 
the  door,  and  leaving  the  two  delinquents  alone. 
Without  thinking  of,  or  perhaps  not  caring  for  the  con- 
sequences, Harold  forthwith  removed  the  gag,  and  the 
first  use  Israel  made  of  the  recovery  of  speech,  was  to 
thank  him  for  his  kindness.  Gradually  they  fell  into 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  27 

discourse,  and  Harold  perceiving  that  Israel  took  it  for 
granted  he  was  one  of  his  followers,  immediately  un- 
deceived him,  by  relating  the  manner  in  which  he 
had  become  involved  in  the  same  predicament  with 
himself. 

"  You  carne  to  scorn  us  then,"  said  Israel,  with  a 
look  and  tone  of  mingled  disappointment  and  displea- 
sure. 

"  No,"  rejoined  the  other,  "  not  in  scorn  ;  I  came 
by  accident,  and  remained  from  curiosity." 

Israel  paused  a  few  moments,  as  if  communing 
with  the  inward  man,  and  seemed  somewhat  in  doubt 
and  perplexity.  But  prose lytism  is  the  invariable 
concomitant  of  zeal.  In  all  this  world  of  seeming  in- 
consistencies, there  is  not  such  a  jumble  as  that  mass 
of  motives  which  prompts  the  actions  of  men  and 
shapes  their  course  of  life,  which  often  seems  directed 
by  the  mere  waywardness  of  the  will.  Hence  many 
things  appear  extraordinary  and  beyond  belief,  though 
in  reality  there  is  nothing  improbable  in  this  world, 
but  actions  without  motives. 

Israel  Baneswright  was  the  son  of  a  clergyman  of 
the  established  church,  who,  besides  fattening  at  a 
stall  in  the  Cathedral  of  Durham,  held  a  plurality  of 
livings  in  various  parts  of  the  country,  so  distant  from 
each  other  that  it  was  physically  impossible  for  him 
to  perform  the  duties  of  shepherd  of  the  flock  to  all  of 
them.  He  was  both  loyal  and  orthodox  in  the  high- 
est degree,  as  in  duty  bound,  and  having  the  advow- 
sion  of  one  of  his  best  livings  for  this  his  only  son, 


28  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

had  educated  him  accordingly  in  the  strictest  tenets 
of  the  Pharisees,  as  the  Crop-ears  irreverently  called 
them.  After  going  through  the  necessary  preparation 
he  was  sent  to  the  university,  where  he  studied 
diligently,  at  times,  though  his  conduct  was  occa- 
sionally not  a  little  irregular.  He  was  exceedingly 
self-willed,  and  often  took  the  bit  between  his  teeth, 
when  neither  tutor  nor  proctor  could  restrain  him. 

Among  his  fellow  students  was  Oliver  Cromwell, 
whose  youth  little  indicated  his  future  character  and 
destiny,  he  being  at  that  time  more  famous  for  his 
pranks  than  his  prayers.  Similarity  of  tastes  and 
habits  produced  a  college  intimacy  between  the  future 
Protector  and  the  future  field  preacher,  cemented  by 
various  frolicks  that  subjected  them  to  various  degrees 
of  punishment.  It  is  recorded  that  they  once  perform- 
ed together  in  a  play,  got  up  in  honor  of  King  James 
the  First,  on  a  visit  to  the  university,  called  "  The 
Marriage  of  the  Arts,"  which,  according  to  an  old 
chronicler,  "  was  too  grave  for  the  king,  and  too  scho- 
lastic for  the  auditory,  (or,  as  some  have  said,  that  the 
actors  had  taken  too  much  wine  before  they  began.) 
His  Majesty  being  heartily  tired,  after  divers  yawns 
offered  to  withdraw.  At  length  being  persuaded  by 
some  that  were  near  to  him,  to  have  patience  till  it 
was  concluded,  least  the  young  men  should  be  dis- 
heartened, he  sat  down  much  against  his  will. 
Whereupon  these  verses  were  made  by  a  certain 
scholar : 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  29 

"  At  Christ  Church  marriage  played  before  the  king, 
Least  that  those  mates  should  want  an  offering, 
The  king  himself  did  offer — what,  I  pray  ? 
He  offered  twice  or  thrice  to  go  away." 

The  profane  career  of  Israel  was,  however,  suddenly 
arrested.  About  this  time,  Puritanism  began  to  show 
itself  in  this  stronghold  of  orthodoxy,  and  more  than  one 
student  became  infected  with  the  heresy.  Among  these 
was  Israel,  who,  through  the  native  ardor  of  his  cha- 
racter, suddenly  passed  from  one  extreme  to  the  other. 
He  at  once  adopted  the  Puritan  creed,  dress,  deportment 
and  every  other  peculiarity  of  these  extraordinary  peo- 
ple, who  seemed  expressly  formed  for  bearing  the  bright 
torch  of  Christianity,  civilization,  and  liberty,  into  the 
wild  recesses  of  a  new  world.  He  caused  his  hair  to 
be  cropped,  accommodated  his  dress  to  the  severe  sim- 
plicity, and  his  deportment  to  the  staid,  sober  self-de- 
nial of  the  strict  models  of  the  sect,  and  talked  openly 
of  the  downfall  of  anti- Christ's  kingdom,  the  creation 
of  a  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth,  new  churches,  and 
a  new  commonwealth  together. 

Expulsion  naturally  followed  such  bold  defiance  of 
the  statutes  of  the  university  ;  and  the  worthy  Plural- 
ist, his  father,  indignant  at  this  enormous  backsliding, 
on  his  return  home,  proffered  him  the  alternative  of 
the  thirty-nine  articles,  or  disinheritance.  Parental 
affection  and  parental  authority,  kindly  exerted,  and 
pursued  with  perseverance,  might,  perhaps,  have  re- 
stored Israel  to  his  mother  church.  But,  unhappily, 
it  but  too  often  happens,  that  in  the  enforcement  of 


oO  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS   DAUGHTER. 

\vhat  they  believe  to  be  the  truth,  men  lose  sight  of 
those  unchangeable  and  eternal  truths  which  consti- 
tute the  basis  of  our  most  sacred  duties.  Men  may 
differ  on  speculative  points,  but  it  is  believed  that  no 
one  in  this  latter  age  would  think  it  either  Christian 
or  humane  to  banish  a  son  for  differing  in  opinion  with 
his  father. 

Israel  was  obstinate,  his  father  inexorable  ;  and 
thus  one  of  the  holiest  of  all  human  ties  was  severed 
forever.  They  parted  never  to  meet  again,  and  Israel 
became  a  houseless  wanderer  on  the  face  of  the  earth. 
Impelled  by  zeal — perhaps  aided  by  necessity,  he 
turned  field  preacher,  trusting  to  the  pious  gratitude 
of  his  followers  for  food  and  raiment.  He  became 
accustomed  in  time  to  rely  on  the  immediate  interven- 
tion of  Providence  for  the  relief  of  his  wants ;  and 
finally,  in  the  temerity  of  his  faith,  married  one  of  his 
female  disciples,  at  the  moment  that  he  was  without  a 
home,  and  destitute  of  every  hope  save  that  which 
animated  his  enthusiastic  spirit. 

That  he  was  a  firm  believer  in  the  faith  he  preached, 
and  that  all  his  deeds  and  doctrines  were  the  result  ol 
conviction,  cannot  be  reasonably  doubted,  for  this  was 
demonstrated  by  the  sufferings  he  endured  for  their 
sake.  It  is  not  in  human  nature  to  sustain  what  has 
been  so  often  inflicted  for  difference  of  opinion  on 
points  of  faith,  without  being  braced  by  that  inward 
conviction  which  seems  to  spring  from  the  secret  whis- 
perings of  the  divinity  himself,  and  is  the  only  test  of 
truth  to  which  mankind  can  directly  appeal.  Hypo- 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  31 

crites  never  become  martyrs.  This  grand  tribunal  of 
conscience  is,  without  doubt,  sometimes,  nay  often, 
perhaps  always,  subject  more  or  less  to  the  influence 
of  self-love,  the  great  moving  principle,  which  is  most 
directly  assailed  by  persecution.  What  costs  us  most, 
is  most  dear  to  us  ;  and  that  for  which  we  sacrifice  all, 
is  everything. 

The  faith  of  Israel  Baneswright  had  grown  up 
against  wind  and  tide,  and  the  force  by  which  it  was 
assailed  only  increased  its  power  of  resistance.  It 
passed  the  bounds  of  zeal,  and  had  grown  into  a 
rigid,  inflexible  bigotry,  amounting  to  uncompromis- 
ing intolerance.  Persecution  makes  bigots,  and  bigots 
make  persecution.  Though  his  humanity  might  have 
revolted  from  inflicting  on  others  the  sufferings  he 
himself  encountered  for  a  difference  of  opinion,  still  he 
shrank  with  pious  abhorrence  from  the  idea  of  permit- 
ting to  others  that  toleration  which  he  demanded  for 
himself  and  his  followers.  Stimulated  at  once,  by  the 
ardor  of  conviction,  the  hope  of  being  instrumental  in 
the  conversion  of  a  sinner,  and  of  adding  to  his  flock 
one  of  somewhat  higher  rank  than  most  of  those  who 
as  yet  composed  it,  he  at  once  with  all  that  enthusiasm 
which  alone  achieves  miracles,  commenced  an  attack 
on  the  High-Church  principles  of  his  fellow  prisoner. 

The  design  of  this  tale  is  not  to  enter  into  polemi- 
cal discussions,  which  too  often  end  in  biting  sar- 
casms or  bitter  denunciations,  equally  unbecoming 
the  subject  and  the  occasion.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that 
at  the  end  of  a  long  controversy,  Harold  remained  uu- 


32  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

changed,  and  Israel  spent  his  eloquence  in  vain.  As 
usual  in  such  cases,  that  feeling  of  fellowship  which 
arises  from  community  in  misfortune,  subsided  into  a 
coolness  approaching  dislike.  Harold  looked  on  his 
companion  as  a  bigoted  exclusionist,  and  Israel,  on 
the  other  hand,  considered  him  one  of  his  persecutors. 

Yet  was  Harold  not  a  man  who  suffered  his  feel- 
ings to  be  embittered  so  far  as  to  make  him  forget  the 
common  offices  of  humanity,  which  were  never  more 
necessary  than  in  behalf  of  these  unhappy  conventi- 
clers.  The  jailer  was  a  dependent  on  Justice  Short- 
hose,  and  sought  to  gain  his  favor  by  adding  insult  to 
the  hardships  he  daily  inflicted  ;  and  the  petty  un- 
derlings followed  their  leader.  Like  all  persons  of  lit- 
tle and  ignoble  minds,  they  were  over-zealous  in  emu- 
lating their  betters  ;  and  it  is  notorious  that  of  all 
tyrants  there  is  none  so  intolerable  as  the  slave. 
These  miserable  tools  who,  after  all,  give  the  sharpest 
sting  to  that  whip  of  scorpions  wielded  by  persecu- 
tion, were,  or  pretended  to  be,  devotedly  attached  to 
church  and  king,  under  whose  broad  mantle  they 
sheltered  their  petty  malignity. 

Harold  soon  perceived  that  the  anxieties  of  his  com- 
panion were  less  for  himself  than  his  wife  and  daugh- 
ter, of  whose  destiny  he  could  learn  nothing  since 
their  separation.  He  never  failed  to  inquire  of  the 
jailer  and  turnkeys  as  opportunity  offered,  but  was 
answered,  for  the  most  part,  by  bitter  taunts,  or  sig- 
nificant hints  of  what  would  happen  on  the  return  of 
his  worship  the  justice,  who  was  absent  hunting  the 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  33 

Crop-ears.  He  could  gain  no  information,  but  such  as 
served  to  increase  his  solicitude.  There  was  in  his 
bosom  a  feeling  still  more  powerful  than  that  of  enthu- 
siasm. He  was  devotedly  attached  to  his  wife  and 
daughter,  who  had  shared  his  disgraces  and  sufferings, 
and  who  merited  his  affection  by  their  tenderness, 
patience  and  devotion.  He  pined  for  their  society, 
and  all  his  prayers  were  for  them. 

Nor  was  Harold  without  his  troubles.  On  being 
lodged  in  prison,  he  debated  within  himself  whether  to 
apprise  his  aged  father,  who  was  laboring  under  the 
weight  of  years,  as  well  as  of  a  long  protracted  infirm- 
ity which  was  dragging  him  by  inches  down  to  the 
grave.  The  good  man  had  lost  his  buxom  helpmate, 
years  before  our  history  commences.  The  decayed  old 
trunk  had  outlived  the  verdant  vine  that  twined  around 
it,  and  now  stood  bare  and  desolate,  nodding  to  its 
fall.  Though  aware  that  his  sudden  disappearance 
would  excite  the  most  painful  apprehensions,  at  home, 
Harold  also  knew  that  such  was  the  bigoted  devotion 
of  his  father  to  church  and  state,  that  he  would  never 
forgive  his  son  for  attending  a  conventicle.  After  long 
reflection,  however,  he  decided  to  send  to  his  father, 
partly  to  relieve  his  worst  apprehensions,  partly  in  the 
hope  his  interference  might  procure  his  release. 

For  some  days  he  could  procure  no  messenger,  it 
being  contrary  to  directions  of  Justice  Shorthose  for 
any  one  to  carry  a  letter  or  message  from  a  Crop-ear. 
Nearly  a  fortnight  elapsed,  and  his  anxiety  to  hear 
from  home  had  become  in  the  highest  degree  painful, 
2* 


34  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

when  one  day,  on  repeating  his  solicitations  to  be 
allowed  to  send  a  message  to  his  father,  the  jailer 
informed  him  with  a  grin,  the  messenger  would  have 
a  long  way  to  go,  for  his  father  on  hearing  he  had 
become  a  Crop-ear,  had  sunk  under  his  afflictions 
of  mind  and  body,  and  been  laid  in  his  grave,  a 
martyr  to  the  backslidings  of  his  only  son.  Regardless 
of  the  shock  which  this  information  occasioned,  he 
proceeded  to  inform  him  with  a  look  of  peculiar  satis- 
faction, that  Master  Justice  Shorthose,  having  com- 
municated his  apostacy  to  the  proper  authorities,  a 
heavy  fine  had  been  laid  on  the  estate  by  the  High 
Commission  Court,  and  a  pursuivant,  under  special 
supervision  of  his  worship,  was  now  in  possession  of 
the  house,  till  the  fine  was  paid.  Such  were  the  con- 
sequences resulting  from  accident,  and  the  indulgence 
of  a  mere  whim  of  curiosity.  "Well  may  man  humble 
himself  in  the  dust  when  he  every  day  sees  himself 
the  sport  of  trifles  in  themselves  less  than  nothing. 

Harold  Habingdon,  though  abstractedly  a  stern 
devotee  of  passive  obedience  and  non-resistance,  was 
one  of  those  men  that  cannot  be  crushed,  and  never 
fall  of  themselves.  "Whatever  might  be  his  feelings, 
he  gave  them  no  utterance ;  and  when  Israel  attempted 
to  console  him,  he  could  scarcely  perceive  that  he 
required  consolation.  He  remained  unruffled  as  before. 
But  his  outward  seeming  belied  the  spirit  within.  He 
felt  the  death  of  his  father,  which  left  him,  as  it  were, 
alone  in  the  wilderness  of  mankind ;  and  the  wrongs 
inflicted  on  himself  became  more  galling,  from  the 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  35 

reflection  that  they  had  shortened  the  days  of  his  only 
parent.  It  was  now,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  that 
he  began  to  question  in  his  inmost  mind,  the  truth  of 
that  creed  which  sanctioned  such  injustice,  as  well  as 
the  legitimacy  of  the  authority  by  which  it  was  inflicted. 
He  had  previously  met  with  some  of  those  famous 
declarations  of  Parliament  which  so  ably  asserted  the 
rights  of  the  people  ;  and  though  they  came  directly 
in  conflict  with  the  principles  he  had  imbibed  from  his 
earliest  youth,  still  they  had  imperceptibly  undermined 
his  prejudices  without  his  being  as  yet  conscious  of 
their  operation.  But  having  never  heretofore  suffered 
from  the  practical  consequences  of  these  arbitrary 
principles,  their  intrinsic  deformity  was  not  brought 
home  to  him,  and  he  had  continued  to  bow  implicitly 
to  the  slavish  doctrine  of  passive  obedience  and  non- 
resistance.  Now,  however,  he  began  to  feel  the  galling 
of  the  chain,  and  what  his  reason  had  refused  to  sanc- 
tion, was  realized  by  actual  suffering. 

Previous  to  his.  capture  and  imprisonment,  he  would 
have  shrunk  from  the  idea  of  any  limitation  to  the 
authority  of  the  king,  but  that  of  his  own  will,  and 
promptly  taken  arms  in  its  defence,  if  necessary. 
But  now  all  the  long  cherished  series  of  hereditary 
impressions  descending  from  generation  to  generation, 
gathering  new  strength  by  the  way,  and  centering  in 
his  person,  together  with  the  precepts  as  well  as  ex- 
ample of  his  father,  and  all  those  with  whom  he  asso- 
ciated, were  gradually  swept  away.  The  conviction 
was  at  length  brought  home  to  his  door  by  sad  expe- 


36  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

rience,  that  as  man  is  a  being  of  imperfect  virtue  and 
wayward  will,  that  will  should  be  circumscribed  by 
impassible  barriers.  He  had  not  as  yet  become  quite 
a  Republican  ;  but  the  course  of  his  reasoning  as  well 
as  feelings,  was  calculated  to  lead  to  that  result  in  the 
end. 

His  High-Church  principles,  too,  were  sensibly 
shaken  by  the  same  personal  experience  of  the  conse- 
quences arising  from  their  practical  application  ;  since 
he  could  not  but  perceive  that  the  hardships  they  in- 
flicted on  himself  and  others,  were  the  joint  issue  of  a 
domineering  church,  and  a  despotic  king,  mutually 
aiding  each  other  in  oppressing  the  people.  He  be- 
came at  length  aware  of  what  all  history  demonstrates, 
that  the  worst  species  of  tyranny  is  that  which  arro- 
gates to  itself  the  sanction  of  Holy  Writ,  and  seeks  to 
sway  the  reason  of  mankind  by  the  infliction  of  cor- 
poreal suffering,  or  the  withholding  of  civil  rights. 
Of  all  despotisms  that  of  ecclesiastical  bigotry  support- 
ed by  civil  and  military  power,  is  the  most  rigid  and 
unrelenting. 

While  this  mental  metamorphosis  was  impercepti- 
bly going  on,  events  bearing  closely  on  the  future  des- 
tinies of  Harold  had  taken  place.  Master  Justice 
Shorthose  had  during  this  period  been  looking  through 
a  perspective  at  the  end  of  which  stood  tho  old  manor 
house  of  Habingdon.  The  powers  of  this  class  of  offi- 
cers had  been  greatly  extended  for  the  purpose  of  more 
effectually  executing  the  severe  laws  against  the  Puri- 
tans, and  they  had  become  for  the  most  part  the  petty 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  37 

despots  of  the  fireside,  entering  houses,  seizing  per- 
sons, and  inflicting  punishments  on  the  lower  orders 
with  as  little  regard  to  their  rights,  as  the  Star  Cham- 
ber and  High  Commission  Courts  paid  to  those  of  a 
more  dignified  class. 

The  Justice  had  already  attracted  the  favorable 
notice  of  these  renowned  tribunals  by  his  zeal  and  ac- 
tivity, and  received  some  of  the  crumbs  that  fell  from 
the  great  men's  table.  Thus  his  fervor  was  quick- 
ened by  the  hope  of  gain,  as  well  as  power,  the  love  of 
which  is,  perhaps,  more  insatiable  in  the  petty  official 
than  the  higher  functionary.  From  the  period  of  the 
infliction  of  the  heavy  fine  on  Harold,  Justice  Short- 
hose  had  thought  he  perceived  a  fair  prospect  of  ob- 
taining possession  of  Habingdon,  and  in  order  to  pave 
the  way  to  the  gratification  of  his  wishes,  now  changed 
his  deportment  entirely  towards  his  prisoner.  He 
took  frequent  occasion  to  express  his  deep  regret  at 
having  so  precipitately  seized  and  conveyed  him  to 
prison,  and  at  the  failure  of  all  his  efforts  to  procure 
his  release.  He  insinuated  the  inflexible  rigor  of  the 
higher  powers  towards  persons  of  his  degree  when  in  a 
similar  predicament,  and  the  absolute  necessity  of 
paying  his  fine  as  a  preliminary  to  his  release  from 
prison.  He  offered  from  pure  regard  to  the  memory 
of  his  deceased  father,  for  whom  he  had  always 
cherished  the  sincerest  regard,  to  advance  the  neces- 
sary sum,  in  ease  Harold  found  it  difficult  to  raise  it, 
on  the  spur  of  the  occasion  ;  and  finally,  with  the  ap- 
pearance of  great  candor,  advised  him  not  to  make 

421 R2O 


38  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

himself  more  obnoxious  to  those  who  had  the  power 
as  well  as  the  will  to  crush  him  to  the  earth,  should 
he  prove  refractory. 

With  a  view  to  soften  the  cool  rigidity  of  Harold  to- 
wards him,  he  was  somewhat  offensively  officious  in 
pressing  upon  the  young  man  various  little  indul- 
gences ;  and  perceiving  the  strong  interest  he  now  be- 
gan to  take  in  the  misfortunes  of  Israel  Baneswright 
and  his  family,  permitted  his  wife  and  daughter  to 
pass  the  day  in  the  room  allotted  to  himself  and  the 
preacher.  This  arrangement  of  course  brought  Harold 
into  the  society  of  Mistress  Baneswright  and  her 
daughter ;  and  as  usual,  similarity  of  situation,  aided 
by  community  in  misfortune,  produced  a  more  than 
ordinary  cordiality.  Harold  had  never  before  paid 
any  special  attention  to  the  appearance  of  the  latter, 
and  was  not  now  particularly  struck  with  her  appear- 
ance. 

Her  face  had  little  remarkable  in  its  features,  and 
her  figure,  clothed  in  garments  neither  fashionable  or 
costly,  presented  in  its  sober  simplicity  an  outline  that 
though  not  ungraceful,  was  without  any  special  at- 
traction. Her  complexion  was  very  pale,  and  its  ex- 
pression sad  and  touching.  It  was  impossible  to  look 
at  her,  without  an  inward  conviction  that  she  had  been 
inured  to  suffering.  Her  eyes  were  black,  and  though 
glazed  with  sorrow,  still  at  times  lightened  up  with 
sparkling  flashes  ;  and  her  hair,  though  disposed  after 
the  ungraceful  manner  of  her  sect,  was  glossy  as  well 
as  exuberant.  Perhaps  the  most  touching  of  her 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  39 

attributes  was  a  voice  of  mournful  melancholy,  sweet 
as  the  sighing  breeze ;  and  when,  after  a  few  days' 
association  she  spoke  to  Harold  of  the  long  series  of 
hardships  her  family  had  endured,  it  was  with  a  sad, 
touching  pathos,  exquisitely  affecting.  She  was 
pious,  but  never  declaimed  ;  devout  without  ostenta- 
tion ;  and  resigned  without  insensibility. 

For  the  first  few  days,  she  spoke  but  little,  and 
that  little  addressed  to  her  parents.  But  soon  per- 
ceiving the  deep  interest  Harold  took  in  their  misfor- 
tunes, and  at  the  same  time  sympathising  with  his 
own,  they  gradually  fell  into  an  easy  intercourse,  like 
that  of  brother  and  sister.  They  usually  conversed 
on  the  subject  of  their  situation,  which  naturally  led 
to  a  communion  of  feeling,  as  their  fortunes  seemed  to 
have  thus  become  strangely  associated.  In  the  course 
of  these  conversations,  Susan  Baneswright  perceived 
with  a  sigh  which  she  believed,  and  perhaps  she  was 
right,  originated  entirely  in  spiritual  considerations, 
that  Harold,  though  imprisoned  as  an  accomplice,  was 
not  one  of  her  faith.  Accordingly,  by  a  tacit  under- 
standing, they  mutually  avoided  the  rock  on  which 
so  many  good  feelings  have  been  wrecked,  and  refrained 
ffom  all  attempts  to  convert  each  other. 

But  with  one  whose  zeal,  like  that  of  Israel  Banes- 
wright, had  been  quickened  instead  of  quelled  by 
persecution,  it  was  next  to  impossible  to  be  thus 
domesticated  day  by  day,  without  occasional  allusions 
to  the  cause  of  his  sufferings.  Without  directly 
addressing  himself  to  Harold,  he  would  speak  of  the 


40  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

persecutions  himself  and  family  had  suffered,  for  fol- 
lowing the  dictates  of  their  conscience,  and  guiding 
others  into  the  path  of  righteousness.  In  the  course 
of  his  conversations  he  would  sometimes  enter  into 
details  of  miserable  petty  oppression,  and  wanton  out- 
rages inflicted  under  color  of  law,  that  awakened  all 
the  sympathies  of  his  heart  in  behalf  of  these  helpless 
women,  and  excited  the  deepest  indignation  against 
those  who,  under  pretence  of  vindicating  the  gospel  of 
peace,  outraged  every  principle  of  Christian  benevo- 
lence. By  frequently  listening  to  these  revolting 
relations,  and  at  the  same  time  associating  with  these 
victims  of  ecclesiastical  tyranny,  his  previous  impres- 
sions became  greatly  strengthened,  and  he  at  length 
arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  a  persecuting  church 
was  an  instrument  of  man,  not  of  his  Maker. 

As  the  time  passed  away,  Harold  began  to  find  it 
gradually  becoming  less  irksome  and  oppressive.  He 
no  longer  pined  for  his  lonely  home,  for  he  had  now  a 
gentle,  pleasing  companion  by  day,  and  a  subject  for 
nightly  contemplation,  when,  as  often  happened,  his 
memory  would  recall  the  placid  yet  affecting  counte- 
nance of  Susan,  earnestly  gazing  on  him  with  a  look  of 
saintly  sorrow,  as  if  lamenting  that  though  joined 
together  by  accident  and  misfortune,  they  were  sepa- 
rated by  their  creeds.  His  latter  days  had  been  so 
lonely  and  contemplative,  and  his  thoughts  so  full  of 
abstractions,  that  hitherto  those  affections  that  form  a 
part  of  the  very  nature  of  man,  had  only  been  awak- 
ened in  imagination.  It  is  scarcely  to  be  wondered  at. 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  41 

if  being  thus  daily  associated  with  a  young  woman, 
who  although  not  beautiful,  was  by  nature  fair,  as 
well  as  attractive,  and  whose  situation  called  forth  his 
deepest  sympathy  ;  who  by  her  sufferings  had  excited 
his  pity,  and  by  her  patient  endurance  called  forth  his 
admiration — he  should  gradually  be  awakened  to  a 
feeling  more  profound  and  lasting.  He  at  last  became 
conscious  of  his  situation,  and  would  probably  have 
disclosed  himself  to  Susan,  but  that  being  confined  to 
the  same  small  apartment,  and  perpetually  in  the  pre- 
sence of  her  parents,  he  could  do  nothing  more  than 
resort  to  that  universal  language  which  seems  equally 
understood  by  all  civilized,  as  well  as  savage  beings — 
by  childhood,  youth,  and  old  age. 

Meanwhile,  Justice  Shorthose  had  been  sedulously 
at  work  to  induce  Harold  to  permit  him  to  advance 
the  money  to  pay  his  fine,  on  the  security  of  a  mort- 
gage on  the  estate  of  Habingdon.  But  he  found  the 
young  man  every  day  becoming  apparently  more 
indifferent  about  the  affair,  and  on  one  occasion  being 
more  earnestly  pressed  for  a  decision,  Harold  declared 
with  bitter  solemnity,  that  he  would  rather  rot  in  jail 
than  voluntarily  submit  to  such  illegal  exactions,  by 
doing  which  he  should  virtually  acknowledge  their 
justice.  Master  Shorthose  who  had  only  remitted  his 
zeal  for  a  purpose  he  now  perceived  was  unattainable, 
hereupon  resolved  to  bring  matters  to  extremity.  Ac- 
cording he  caused  Harold  and  the  Baneswrights  to 
be  brought  before  him  for  judgment,  trial  being  out  of 
the  question,  as  he  judiciously  observed,  he  himself 


42  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

having  witnessed  their  delinquency.  This  is  called 
Lynch  Law. 

It  was  a  scene  at  which  humanity  might  weep,  and 
justice  shut  her  eyes,  had  she  not  already  been  blind. 
Harold  and  Israel  stood  stiff  and  lofty,  while  the  wife 
and  daughter,  with  folded  arms  and  downcast  eyes, 
awaited  the  result  with  pious  resignation.  The  Jus- 
tice sat  in  all  the  stateliness  of  awkward  dignity, 
surrounded  by  his  subordinate  officers,  grinning  in 
mockery,  and  having  directed  his  clerk  to  read  the  law 
against  conventicles,  gravely  observed  that  being  him- 
self a  witness  to  the  offence  no  other  proof  was  re- 
quired. Here  he  was  interrupted  by  Israel,  who  de- 
clared no  proof  was  necessary,  as  he  acknowledged, 
hay,  gloried  in  his  vocation,  which  he  was  fully 
assured  were  imposed  upon  him  by  Divine  ordination. 

"  Silence  !"  cried  the  Justice — "  I  must  at  least  go 
through  the  forms  prescribed  by  statute,  and  sanc- 
tioned by  His  Grace  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury, 
who  is  not  only  Primate  of  England,  but  Primate  of 
all  England.  I  don't  want  your  confession  unless 
accompanied  by  atonement  and  amendment.  'Slife, 
Master  Crop-ear,  do  you  mean  to  insult  the  King's 
representative,  by  pretending  to  confess  what  he  saw 
with  his  own  eyes?  Do  you  mean  to  insinuate  that 
I  am  blind  and  deaf  too,  that  I  did  not  see  and  hear 
you  ?  Your  confession  is  an  additional  offence,  and 
shall  be  remembered  in  your  punishment.  But  to  the 
point.  Here,  clerk,  give  me  the  book.  So,  now,  most 
reverend  apostle,  you  say  you  are  a  preacher  of  the 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  43 

gospel.  Will  you  promise  to  read  this  to  your  congre- 
gation— that  is  to  say  if  you  have  any  next  Sunday, 
if  I  let  you  go  ?" 

Israel  took  the  volume,  opened  it,  and  finding  it  to 
be  "  The  Book  of  Sports,"  as  it  was  called,  so  obnox- 
ious to  the  rigid  Puritans,  hurled  it  from  him  with 
indignation,  at  the  same  time  exclaiming — 

"  Read  it — read  that  accursed  work  of  abomina- 
tions— the  book  of  Satan,  which  converts  the  holy 
Sabbath  into  a  holiday  for  sinners  !  I'd  rather  read 
one  of  those  profane  stage  plays,  some  of  which,  and 
these  among  the  most  abominable,  are  written  by  men 
who  call  themselves  ministers  of  the  gospel.  Let  it 
be  read  at  Bartholomew  Fair,  for  verily  I  will  not  pol- 
lute my  lips  with  such  scum  of  iniquity." 

"Silence!"  again  roared  the  Justice,  "or,  though  it 
be  not  in  the  statute,  I  will,  by  virtue  of  that  discre- 
tion which  appertains  to  me  as  being  the  representa- 
tive of  both  church  and  king,  order  that  foul  tongue  of 
yours  to  be  cut  off,  that  it  may  utter  no  more  blas- 
phemy. Silence,  I  say,  and  listen  to  your  sentence,  as 
becomes  a  contumacious  sinner." 

"  I  will  not  be  silent,"  answered  Israel,  "it  is  my 
calling  to  speak,  and  I  will  speak  while  I  have  breath 
to  declare  the  word  of  truth,  and  protest  against  the 
devices  of  the  ungodly.  Lift  not  your  beseeching 
eyes  to  me,  my  poor  shorn  lambs,"  said  he,  glancing  at 
his  wife  and  daughter,  "  for  I  am  called  to  fight  the 
good  fight,  and  have  girded  my  loins  for  the  combat. 
Be  not  afraid  ;  a  little  while  longer  we  may  be  hunted 


44  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

like  wild  beasts  of  prey  ;  a  little  while  longer  we  may 
be  insulted,  buffetted,  striped,  imprisoned,  and  exposed 
to  worldly  shame.  But  hold  up  your  heads,  my  dar- 
lings, and  look  to  Heaven  for  that  justice  which  yet 
for  a  time,  a  very  brief  time,  I  trust,  is  banished  from 
this  land  which  boasts  of  its  freedom,  while  it  seeks 
to  enslave  the  mind.  He  who  is  justice  itself  will 
not  forever  permit  injustice  to  triumph,  for  that  would 
carry  with  it  the  utter  degradation  of  His  creatures. 

"Yea,"  cried  he,  as  his  feelings  gradually  waxed 
into  enthusiasm — "  Yea,  verily  the  time  is  coming ;  it 
is  close  at  hand  ;  it  is  already  come.  England  is 
about  to  smoke  with  blood — the  blood  not  of  bulls, 
and  goats,  and  sheep,  but  of  men.  For  every  wrong 
shall  be  a  victim  ;  for  every  pang  inflicted  on  the  flock 
of  the  Shepherd,  He  shall  smite  the  aggressor  with  fire 
and  sword.  For  every  drop  of  blood  that  hath  been 
drawn  by  stripes  and  mutilations,  rivers  shall  flow 
over  the  devoted  land.  For  every  earthly  good  we 
must  pay  the  purchase.  But  when  the  welfare  of  the 
immortal  soul  is  at  stake — when  not  alone  the  salva- 
tion of  the  present,  but  of  countless  generations  yet  to 
come,  is  in  imminent  jeopardy  ;  when  our  greatest 
good — that  which  is  as  high  above  all  sublunary  bless- 
ings as  heaven  is  above  earth — is  to  be  attained,  the 
price,  like  the  benefit,  is  inestimable.  Their  must  be 
martyrs  to  seal  with  their  blood  the  sincerity  of  their 
faith.  Every  sacred  drop  that  flows  from  their  veins 
into  the  ground,  nourishes  some  goodly  seed  of  piety 
into  a  stately  tree  that  casts  its  shadow  afar.  Blood 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  45 

is  the  great  libation  of  man,  the  seal  of  his  bond  of 
faith. 

"  In  times  like  these  one  martyr  will  not  suffice. 
When  nations  sin,  nations  must  atone.  There  must 
be  hecatombs,  thousands,  yea  tens  of  thousands  of 
victims,  not  as  heretofore  wasting  on  the  burning  pile, 
or  quivering  on  the  rack,  but  offering  up  their  lives  on 
the  field  of  battle  where  alone  the  great  contest  is  to 
be  decided,  and  crimes  of  rulers  expiated  by  the  blood 
of  their  people.  As  for  me,  I  am  but  a  worm,  and 
they  may  tread  on  me  if  they  will.  If  I  am  not 
worthy  of  martyrdom,  stripes  may  suffice.  I  am 
ready,  Master  Justice.  Be  quick.  The  past  has  been 
yours,  the  future  is  in  stronger  hands  than  those  of 
the  archbishop  and  the  king." 

This  was  poured  forth  with  a  vehemence  and  rapidi- 
ty, that  for  the  time  not  only  silenced  the  Justice,  but 
caused  him  to  quail  before  the  despised  Crop-ear.  He 
soon,  however,  rallied  his  dignity,  and  as  is  natural  to 
little  and  malignant  minds,  revenged  himself  for  his 
temporary  awe  by  exercising  that  discretionary  power 
the  .law  allowed  him,  in  the  infliction  of  a  severer 
punishment  on  the  person  who  had  subjected  him  to 
the  mortification  of  being  cowed  by  a  Crop-ear,  in  the 
presence  of  his  officials. 

"  What !" — he  at  length  exclaimed — "  you  are  a 
prophet  as  well  as  a  priest  ?  'Slife,  I  suppose  you  will 
set  up  for  a  king  soon.  Can  your  reverence,  in  the 
spirit  of  prophecy,  predict  what  is  going  to  happen  to 
yourself,  as  you  have  what  is  going  to  befall  the  na- 


46  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

tion  ?  Constable,  take  him  to  the  Great  Hall  of  the 
Prison  ;  give  him  thirty-nine  lashes  well  laid  on  ;  slit 
his  nose,  as  his  ears  are  non  est ;  and  then  let  him  de- 
part in  peace  on  his  mission  of  grace." 

It  may  be  as  well  to  remark  here,  in  explanation  of 
the  choice  of  the  prison  hall,  instead  of  the  market 
place,  or  some  equally  public  situation,  for  the  pun- 
ishment of  Israel  Baneswright,  that  of  late  the  Justice 
had  been  greeted  with  very  significant  tokens  of  public 
dissatisfaction,  on  occasions  of  similar  exhibitions  of 
Christian  benevolence.  Or,  perhaps,  he  might  have 
become  a  convert  to  the  opinion  that  appeals  to  the 
imagination  are  much  more  effectual  than  to  the 
senses,  and  private  executions  far  more  effectual  in 
preventing  crimes  than  public  examples. 

"  But  what  shall  I  do  with  the  women,  your  wor- 
ship ?"  asked  the  constable,  grinning. 

"  0  !  I  had  forgot  the  flock  in  providing  for  the 
shepherd.  Let  me  see — hem — aye — yes — they  shall 
have  the  pleasure  of  looking  on  while  the  ceremony  is 
performing,  and  be  punished  by  sympathy.  Justice 
should  be  tempered  with  mercy.  As  for  you,  Master 
Harold,  you  will  remain  in  jail  till  your  fine  is  paid, 
or  the  prophecy  of  the  inspired  preacher  fulfilled. 
Away  with  them." 

The  wife  and  daughter  of  the  unfortunate  field 
preacher  remained  throughout  the  whole  of  this  wick- 
ed mockery  of  justice  in  the  dead  silence  of  resigna- 
tion, or  despair.  They  had  undergone  a  long  series  of 
suffering ;  and  if  providence  does  not  always  temper 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  47 

the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb,  it  often  makes  amends  by 
tempering  the  shorn  lamb  to  the  winds.  They  neither 
wept,  nor  wrung  their  hands,  nor  cried  aloud,  though 
their  hearts  were  bleeding,  and  their  limbs  scarcely 
able  to  support  them.  Yet  amid  all  their  sufferings, 
and  they  suffered  much,  it  was  apparent  that  there 
was  within  some  potent  influence  which  sustained 
them  in  the  hour  of  sore  trial.  Pale  as  the  ghostly 
shadow  conjured  up  by  fear  or  superstition ;  helpless 
as  the  dove  in  the  claws  of  the  hawk,  they  awaited 
the  execution  of  the  sentence. 

Harold  was  almost  maddened  by  mingled  love  and 
indignation  ;  but  the  conviction  that  his  interference 
would  only  serve  to  provoke  the  Justice  to  new  inflic- 
tions of  petty  malice,  choked  him  into  silence.  He 
looked  on  while  the  preparations  were  making,  with  a 
terrible  serenity,  ever  and  anon  casting  a  glance  at 
Susan  Baneswright,  which,  even  at  this  sad  extremity, 
sunk  into  her  heart,  and  was  long  afterwards  remem- 
bered. Israel  awaited  the  infliction  of  the  sentence 
with  manly  resignation ;  casting  his  eyes  towards 
heaven,  and  clasping  his  hands  together,  he  exclaimed : 

"  Lord,  Lord  !  how  long  wilt  thou  suffer  this  ?" 

The  preparations  were  made  ;  the  scarred  shoulders 
of  Israel  exposed  ;  the  executioner  brandished  his  cat- 
o'-nine  tails,  and  eagerly  awaited  the  order  to  begin, 
while  the  two  desolate  females  placed  their  hands  be- 
fore their  eyes,  that  they  might  not  behold  what  they 
were  thus  compelled  to  witness. 

At  this  moment  a  confused  hum  of  many  voices, 


48  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

followed  by  loud  shouts  mingled  with  angry  threats, 
and  equally  angry  expostulations,  was  heard  without 
the  prison.  Anon,  the  sound  of  heavy  blows,  and  the 
tugging  of  men  engaged  in  hot  contention,  succeeded 
this  war  of  words.  In  a  few  minutes  the  outer  door 
was  assailed  with  thundering  violence,  and  finally 
yielding,  gave  entrance  to  a  band  of  rustics  armed 
with  iron  crows,  scythes,  stakes,  flails,  bill-hooks,  and 
other  rural  weapons.  Justice  Shorthose  was  at  first 
struck  dumb  at  this  unceremonious  intrusion ;  but 
soon  recovering  his  self-importance,  demanded  in  a 
tone  of  authority  mitigated  by  a  slight  fit  of  trembling, 
what  they  wanted,  and  how  they  dared  approach  his 
presence  accoutred  in  this  manner.  A  stern-looking 
man,  bearing  an  appearance  of  plain  respectability, 
thus  answered — 

""We  are  come  to  release  these  poor  harmless  pris- 
oners, the  victims  of  laws  enacted  by  bigotry,  and  en- 
forced by  tyrants.  It  depends  on  your  present  con- 
duct whether  we  are  not  likewise  come  to  punish  the 
miserable  instrument  of  oppression,  though  our  object 
is  higher  game." 

"  'Slife  !"  answered  the  Justice,  a  little  relieved 
from  the  immediate  apprehension  of  personal  violence, 
"  'slife,  sir,  don't  you  know  you  are  flying  in  the  face 
of  the  law  and  insulting  the  dignity  of  his  sacred  Ma- 
jesty, together  with  his  Grace  the  Lord  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury,  by  whose  authority  these  pestilent  Crop- 
ears  have  been  apprehended  ?" 

"  The  king's  most  sacred  Majesty,"  said  the  other. 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  49 

with  a  grim  smile,  "  and  his  Grace  of  Canterbury, 
are  by  this  time,  I  opine,  flying  from  the  face  of  an 
injured  people." 

"  What  mean  you  by  that,  sirrah?  Do  you  dare  to 
spout  treason  against  the  king,  in  the  presence  of  his 
representative.  I'll  commit  you,  sirrah — you  shall  be 
carted,  whipped,  ridden  through  the  streets  on  a  rail, 
pilloried  at  the  market  place,  lose  your  ears,  and 
be  hanged,  drawn  and  quartered  into  the  bargain." 

A  low,  menacing  murmur,  accompanied  by  a  sup- 
pressed laugh,  was  the  response  to  this  outbreak  of 
the  Justice,  who  was  not  a  little  daunted  at  the  ill 
success  of  his  harangue,  as  well  as  the  look  of  cool  de- 
fiance with  which  it  was  met  by  the  person  to  whom 
it  was  addressed.  He  valued  himself  not  only  for  his 
eloquence,  but  his  singular  acuteness  in  detecting  a 
culprit  by  his  physiognomy,  and  often  boasted  he 
could  tell  a  rogue  from  sheer  instinct.  The  confes- 
sion of  the  face,  he  maintained,  was  more  conclusive 
than  that  of  the  tongue.  On  this  occasion,  however, 
he  was  altogether  at  fault.  The  intruders,  with  the 
exception  of  their  spokesman,  were  plain  country  peo- 
ple, with  ruddy  cheeks,  and  faces  expressive  of  nothing 
but  honest  simplicity. 

The  person  who  appeared  to  be  the  leader  of  the 
band  paid  no  further  attention  to  the  Justice,  but 
quietly  directed  his  followers  to  release  all  the  pris- 
oners without  exception,  as  it  was  impossible  to  dis- 
tinguish the  innocent  from  the  guilty.  Accordingly 
the  keys  were  demanded  of  the  jailer,  who  called  all 


50  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

present  to  witness  that  he  acted  under  durance.  A 
detachment  being  sent  on  this  errand,  Justice  Short- 
hose  employed  the  interim  in  a  last  effort  in  behalf  of 
his  majesty  and  the  archbishop. 

"  'Slife,  Master  Crop — I  say — that  is  to  say — 
what  was  I  saying  ?  I  say  Master  What-d'ye-call- 
'em,  do  you  know  what  you  are  about  ?  You  are 
breaking  the  laws  in  twenty  different  places — the  law 
spiritual,  the  law  temporal,  the  law  civil,  and  the  law 
military.  You  are  violating  Magna  Charta  which 
saith — hem — I  say — what  was  I  saying  ?" 

"  It  matters  little  what  you  say,"  quoth  the  other, 
as  the  party  detached  for  that  purpose  came  in  with 
the  prisoners,  "  we  are  but  of  the  commonalty,  yet 
were  always  good,  peaceable  subjects,  who  respected 
the  law  while  it  afforded  us  protection  against  author- 
ity unjustly  assumed,  and  exercised  without  mercy. 
The  despotism  of  the  law  may  be  as  oppressive  as  that 
of  the  will  ;  and  had  not  mankind  sometimes  resorted 
to  those  rights  which  belong  to  our  nature,  and  cannot 
be  alienated,  the  whole  world  would  long  since  have 
been  inhabited  only  by  slaves." 

"  'Fore  heaven,  this  is  a  new  doctrine,"  grumbled 
the  Justice,  "  it  sounds  very  much  like  treason, 
sprinkled  with  a  little  heresy,  I  think." 

';  Treason  ?  Know,  Master  Shorthose,  when  a 
whole  people  rise  against  oppression  there  are  neither 
rebels  nor  traitors." 

The  indignation  of  the  Justice  at  the  bold  annun- 
ciation of  these  doctrines  overcame  his  fears.  He 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  51 

denounced  the  intruders  by  every  epithet  of  oppro- 
brium he  could  muster  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  and 
his  catalogue  was  pretty  extensive  ;  summoned  the 
posse  comitatus  in  vain  ;  and  adjured  his  most  sacred 
Majesty  to  witness  his  total  incapacity  to  resist  these 
lawless  intruders.  Little  attention  was  paid  to  his 
harangue,  and  the  prisoners,  among  whom,  of  course, 
were  Israel  and  his  family,  quietly  departed  under  the 
escort  of  their  deliverers.  Harold,  too,  was  .offered  his 
liberty,  but  declined  it  coldly,  not  being  able  tho- 
roughly to  overcome  his  reverence  for  the  law,  though 
smarting  under  its  infliction.  As  Israel  left  the  hall, 
he  emphatically  said  to  him,  "  assuredly  we  shall 
meet  again."  His  wife  bade  him  a  warm,  but  chas- 
tened farewell,  but  the  daughter  was  silent.  A  single 
look  passed  between  Susan  and  Harold,  as  they  part- 
ed, whether  ever  to  meet  again  depended  on  the  chap- 
ter of  accidents,  in  which  is  contained  a  large  portion 
of  the  history  rf  man. 


CHAPTER    III. 

A  Short  Foray  into  the  Domain  of  History — Harold  in  great  Jeopar- 
dy— Interposition  of  Providence  in  the  Disguise  of  Old  Gilbert 
Taverner — Justice  Shorthose  and  his  Officials  Abscond — A  Secret 
concerning  Susan  Baneswright — Harold  in  great  Perplexity,  from 
which  He  is  at  length  Relieved  by  the  Interposition  of  Dan  Cupid 
— He  Becomes  not  only  a  Roundhead,  but  a  Republican,  and  Ab- 
jures Passive  Obedience  and  Non-Resistance  for  ever. 

IT  is  not  our  intention  to  enter  into  a  history  of  the 
times,  any  further  than  as  the  course  of  public  events 
exercised  an  influence  over  the  fortunes  of  those  who 
figure  in  this  narrative.  If  we  may  be  permitted  to 
speak  in  our  own  behalf,  we  would,  with  all  due  de- 
ference to  the  public  taste,  insinuate  an  opinion, 
that  the  jumbling  together  historical  facts  and  ficti- 
tious occurrences  in  one  inextricable  tissue,  cannot  but 
operate  to  the  great  prejudice  of  truth,  by  confounding 
those  readers,  at  least,  who  are  not  sufficiently  quali- 
fied to  separate  the  actual  from  the  imaginary  occur- 
rences. And  this  is  still  more  likely  to  embarrass  the 
reader,  when  the  author  is  sufficiently  familiar  with 
past  events  to  preserve  the  semblance  of  history  by 
avoiding  all  anachronisms  ;  by  selecting  for  his  actors 
persons  who  really  figured  at  the  time ;  exhibiting  a 


.  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  53 

few  of  their  leading  characteristics,  and  being  so  cor- 
rect in  many  particulars  that  when  he  deviates  into 
fiction  the  reader  is  scarcely  aware  that  he  has  got  on 
the  ice,  and  is  no  longer  walking  on  solid  ground.  It 
is  unhappily  too  true,  that  history  is,  for  the  most 
part,  but  a  reflection  of  the  feelings  and  prejudices 
of  the  writer,  and  therefore  cannot  be  explicitly  relied 
upon  as  a  faithful  picture  of  past  times  or  occurren- 
ces. In  its  earliest  stage  it  is  a  fable ;  in  its  progress 
a  romance — founded  on  fact ;  in  its  maturity  it  may, 
perhaps,  be  relied  on  as  a  chronicle  of  events :  but  of 
the  real  causes,  and  most  especially  of  the  secret  mo- 
tives which  actuated  the  prime  agents  who  gave  them 
life  and  motion,  the  world  can  gather  little  from  his- 
tory but  contradictions  leading  to  doubts  which  can- 
not be  solved.  Still  it  is  proper  there  should  be  some 
standard  of  belief  as  to  the  past,  and  historical  works 
afford  the  best  we  have.  It  would,  therefore,  seem  it 
were  better  that  they  should  not  be  mixed  up  and  con- 
founded with  fiction,  or  that  when  the  writer  is  about 
to  give  the  rein  to  his  fancy,  he  should  candidly  ap- 
prise the  reader,  in  order  that  he  may  be  properly 
prepared.  The  chaste  muse  of  history  should  not  be 
dressed  up  in  meretricious  ornaments,  but  come  forth 
in  all  the  simplicity  of  truth,  without  spot  or  blemish. 
The  most  mischievous  falsehoods  are  adulterated 
truths.  But  we  are  delaying  the  courteous  and  impa- 
tient reader,  who  will  doubtless  excuse  our  making  a 
slight  inroad  upon  history,  although  it  be  against  our 
conscience.  It  is  a  great  feather  in  the  cap  of  an 


54  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

author,  if,  when  doing  what  he  thinks  wrong,  he  can 
prove  clearly  that  he  knows  better. 

In  order  to  explain  the  sudden  liberation  of  Israel 
Baneswright  and  his  followers,  it  is  necessary  to  re- 
vert to  the  crisis  by  which  it  was  brought  about. 
The  events  are  doubtless  familiar  to  all,  and  therefore 
a  few  words  will  suffice.  The  despotic  pretensions  of 
James  the  First,  though  only  those  to  which  the  En- 
glish nation  had  quietly  submitted  under  the  reigns  of 
his  immediate  predecessors,  were  attempted  to  be  en- 
forced on  a  people  who  had  undergone  great  changes 
in  the  meantime.  The  despotism  of  Henry  the  Eighth 
was  as  complete  as  that  of  William  the  Conqueror. 
By  becoming  head  of  the  church  he  had  united  the 
civil  and  ecclesiastical  powers  of  the  state,  in  the  ex- 
ercise of  which  he  met  with  no  opposition  from  a 
succession  of  the  most  servile  parliaments  that  ever 
disgraced  England  ;  and  by  the  suppression  of  reli- 
gious houses  he  had  obtained  a  fund  for  purchasing  a 
venal  nobility,  which,  in  the  long  wars  of  York  and 
Lancaster,  had  lost  all  traces  of  principle  or  patriot- 
ism. His  successor  was  a  child  in  leading  strings, 
who  was  followed  by  a  woman,  called  "  Bloody 
Mary"  by  her  embittered  opponents,  but  who,  we  sus- 
pect, was  not  half  so  bad  as  she  has  been  represented, 
and  whose  reign  was  a  struggle  between  religious  fac- 
tions. Elizabeth  courted  the  people  and  bullied  their 
representatives.  She  effected  popular  measures,  but 
in  general  her  acts  were  those  of  an  absolute  sove- 
reign, and  she  treated  parliament  with  little  more 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  55 

ceremony  than  her  father,  Henry  the  Eighth,  who, 
when  that  body  ventured  to  hesitate  about  suppressing 
the  lesser  monasteries,  sent  for  the  members,  and  told 
them  "  he  would  have  the  bill  to  pass,  or  take  off 
some  of  their  heads." 

But  the  reformation  of  religion  was  accompanied, 
or  rather  preceded,  by  a  revolution  in  the  human 
mind,  which  had  been  silently,  slowly,  and  surely 
advancing  in  knowledge  and  intelligence.  Great 
revolutions,  destined  to  exert  a  lasting  influence  over 
the  condition  of  mankind,  are  the  invisible  agents  of 
Providence,  operating  unheeded  and  unsuspected  until 
ripe  for  execution.  When  all  is  prepared,  the  dead 
calm  which  usually  precedes  the  convulsion  gives 
place  in  an  instant  to  the  whirling  tempest.  The  long 
buried  genius  of  change  emerges  to  light  full  grown, 
and  the  moment  of  i  ts  recognition  is  that  of  its  tri- 
umph. Henry  the  Eighth  was  merely  the  instrument. 
The  Reformation  would  have  eventually  conquered 
without  his  aid.  But  the  puny  mortal  who  only 
floats  with  the  current,  is  often  mistaken  for  the 
omnipotent  arm  that  directs  the  stream. 

Reformations  in  the  church  are  sure  to  be  preceded, 
accompanied,  or  followed,  by  an  extension  of  the  fran- 
chises of  civil  liberty,  because  they  both  proceed  from 
the  expansion  of  the  human  mind  to  which  all  creeds 
must  more  or  less  accommodate  themselves,  if  not  in 
substance,  at  least  in  outward  forms  of  administration. 
Hence,  when  in  the  reign  of  James  the  first  the 
Protestant  religion  became  confirmed  in  its  ascendancy 


56  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

in  England,  those  political  principles  of  freedom  which 
always  grow  up  and  strengthen  in  the  struggle, 
between  contending  parties,  began  to  exhibit  their 
sensible  operation.  The  despotic  claims  of  James  were 
discussed,  questioned,  and  at  length  opposed ;  those  of 
his  successor  resisted  by  Parliament,  which  at  length 
becoming  assured  by  repeated  examples,  that  no  faith 
could  be  placed  in  the  concessions  of  the  king,  and  that 
the  only  possible  mode  of  retaining  those  rights  he 
had  only  conceded  through  necessity  or  fear  was  to 
divest  him  of  the  means  of  reclaiming  them,  deter- 
mined to  resort  to  the  last  appeal  if  necessary.  The 
question  whether  the  command  of  the  Militia  should 
be  at  the  disposal  of  the  Parliament  or  the  King 
brought  matters  to  the  issue.  Neither  dared  to  yield ; 
for  the  command  of  the  militia  in  the  absence  of  a  great 
standing  army  which  has  since  superceded  it  in  Eng- 
land, would  in  all  probability  finally  decide  the  contest. 
The  only  alternative  was  acquiescence  or  war. 
The  King  erected  his  standard  at  Nottingham,  and 
Parliament  passed  an  ordinance  for  raising  an  army, 
accompanied  by  a  vote  of  supply.  England  was  in 
arms  against  herself.  The  elements  of  civil  and  relig- 
ious dissention  were  in  utter  confusion.  Arms  super- 
seded laws,  and  the  civil  authorities  could  no  longer 
preserve  the  peace  of  communities.  This  was  most 
especially  the  case  in  the  remote  districts  which  were 
the  scene  of  events  just  related,  where  dissenters 
abounded  ;  and  no  sooner  did  the  news  arrive  that 
civil  strife  had  actually  commenced,  than  a  party  of 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  57 

those  who  had  frequently  attended  the  exhortations  of 
Israel  Baneswright,  gathered  together,  proceeded  to 
the  jail,  and  released  him,  as  set  forth  in  the  preceding 
chapter.  Thus  it  is  that  extremes  beget  each  other, 
and  that  the  abuse  of  authority  is  the  parent  of 
anarchy.  Having  thus  briefly,  we  hope,  prepared  the 
way  for  what  has  passed,  and  what  is  to  come,  we 
shall  resume  the  thread  of  our  story. 

After  the  departure  of  the  Crop-ear  and  his  follow- 
ers, Justice  Shorthose  solaced  his  rage  and  mortifica- 
tion, by  divers  insulting  hints  and  innuendoes  directed 
against  Harold,  now  the  residuary  legatee  of  his  wrath, 
and  who  he  was  pleased  to  consider  a  party  m  the 
outrage  against  his  most  sacred  Majesty  in  the  person 
of  his  doughty  representative.  As  yet  ignorant  of  the 
commencement  of  hostilities — for  news  did  not  then 
travel  by  telegraph — he  resolved  to  make  Harold  the 
scape- goat  for  all  the  rest,  and  ordering  him  to  be 
safely  locked  in  his  old  quarters,  left  the  prison  full  of 
sound  and  fury. 

Harold  passed  the  remainder  of  that  day  and  the 
ensuing  night  without  food,  except  for  the  mind,  and 
that  was  somewhat  bitter.  Accustomed  to  the  daily 
society  of  Israel  and  his  family,  his  present  loneliness 
lay  heavily  on  his  spirits  ;  and  his  probable  eternal 
separation  from  Susan  added  greatly  to  its  weight. 
He  anticipated  new  acts  of  oppression  from  the  dis- 
comfited Justice,  and  prepared  himself  for  still  greater 
exertions  of  fortitude  and  patience.  From  the  period 
of  the  departure  of  Justice  Shorthose,  not  the  sound  of 
3* 


58  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

a  human  voice,  or  passing  footstep,  had  he  heard. 
The  prison  was  as  silent  as  the  mansions  of  the  dead, 
and  the  striking  of  the  great  clock  in  the  hall  was  the 
only  sound  that  met  his  ear.  He  passed  a  sleep- 
less night,  and  rose  in  the  morning  with  a  feeling  of 
depression  he  had  never  experienced  before. 

The  customary  hour  of  breakfast  passed  without 
its  appearance  ;  the  dinner  hour  came,  but  no  dinner ; 
and  he  laid  himself  down  at  night  under  an  apprehen- 
sion that  made  his  blood  run  cold,  having  tasted 
neither  food  nor  water  throughout  the  day.  In  the 
meantime  the  dead,  dreary  silence  continued,  and  he 
felt  like  one  abandoned  by  the  world.  During  the 
lapse  of  his  second  weary,  wakeful  night,  he  at  times 
fancied  he  heard  the  distant  shouts  of  human  voices 
in  the  town,  but  they  soon  died  away,  and  even  the 
barking  of  the  dogs  ceased,  as  the  black  clouds  en- 
circled the  moon  and  hid  its  silvery  light. 

The  next  day,  and  the  next,  passed  in  the  same 
manner,  with  the  same  dead  silence,  and  the  same 
abstinence.  He  now  began  to  experience  the  usual 
effects  of  protracted  hunger  and  thirst.  AYhen  he 
attempted  to  walk  his  limbs  faltered,  his  head  grew 
dizzy,  his  sight  vague,  and  objects  indistinct.  By 
degrees  his  brain  waxed  weak  and  visionary,  for  lack 
of  that  which  is  equally  necessary  to  body  and  mind. 
A  crowd  of  indistinct  images  arose,  which,  though 
they  prevented  his  dwelling  intensely  on  the  reality  of 
his  situation,  aggravated  his  sufferings  by  the  addi- 
tion of  imaginary  auxiliaries.  His  repose  was  nothing 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  59 

but  half- waking,  half-sleeping  dreams,  of  chrystal 
springs  and  plenteous  feasts,  so  that  he  might  be  said 
only  to  awake  to  the  tortures  of  Tantalus. 

While  his  strength  enabled  him,  he  watched  con- 
stantly at  the  only  window  of  his  room,  which  looked 
into  the  interior,  where  was  a  small  yard,  enclosed 
with  a  high,  massive  wall,  beyond  which  lay  the  open 
fields.  But  not  a  soul  was  stirring  there.  Sometimes 
he  knocked  at  the  door  with  all  his  strength,  and  call- 
ed for  aid.  But  no  one  heard,  and  no  one  answered. 
He  seemed  destined  to  perish  by  famine,  alone  in  the 
midst  of  his  fellow  creatures.  Every  day  added  to 
his  weakness,  and  at  the  same  time  his  restlessness  ; 
for  though  ordinary  hunger  seeks  oblivion  in  sleep, 
there  comes  a  time  when  the  starving  wretch  is  de- 
prived of  that  solace  ;  when  the  brain  becomes  affect- 
ed, and  the  powers  of  nature  being  exhausted,  death, 
not  sleep,  is  the  only  refuge. 

On  the  morning  of  the  sixth  day,  after  a  sleepless 
night,  during  a  great  part  of  which  ail  consciousness 
of  present  suffering  was  lost  in  the  medley  of  horrors 
that  floated  in  the  chaos  of  his  unsettled  brain,  as  he 
lay  on  his  miserable  pallet  in  that  state  of  almost  un- 
consciousness which  happily  accompanies  a  mind  and 
body  exhausted  by  extreme  suffering,  he  was  recalled 
to  a  sense  of  his  situation,  by  fancying  he  heard  the 
footsteps  of  some  person  along  the  narrow  passage 
outside  of  his  door.  The  instinct  of  nature,  rather 
than  any  distinct  perception  of  his  position,  roused 
Harold  to  a  last  effort.  He  called  out  in  a  feeble 


60  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

voice,  and  essayed  to  rise  from  his  bed  ;  but  no  an- 
swer was  returned,  and  the  footsteps  died  away  in  the 
distance.  Again  he  relapsed  into  his  former  state, 
and  sank  down  on  the  bed  from  which  he  had  partly 
risen.  After  an  interval  of  a  few  minutes,  he  dis- 
tinguished the  sound  of  returning  footsteps,  and,  as 
he  imagined,  the  jingling  of  keys.  Hope  now  re-ani- 
mated his  waning  strength,  and  he  had  managed  to 
raise  himself  so  as  to  lean  against  the  wall,  when  he 
heard  the  turning  of  a  key  and  the  grating  of  hinges, 
as  the  door  opened.  He  was  too  weak  for  joy  ;  but 
the  sudden  revulsion  of  his  feelings  overpowered  him  ; 
a  film  came  over  his  eyes,  and  he  sank  down  in  a 
state  of  almost  complete  insensibility. 

He  fancied  he  heard  some  one  calling  him  by  name 
in  a  voice  hallowed  by  long  past  remembrances,  and 
though  he  strove  to  answer,  his  words  died  away  in 
inarticulate  murmurs.  By  degrees  the  film  passed 
away  from  before  his  eyes,  and  he  thought  he  per- 
ceived a  figure  bending  over  him,  whose  face  seemed 
familiar.  The  process  of  returning  recollection  was 
very  slow  ;  for  nature  was  almost  exhausted,  and 
hung  to  life  by  a  single  hair.  But  the  voice  of  one 
lamenting  over  his  sad  condition,  that  voice  of  kind- 
ness and  sympathy  which  can  almost  call  us  back 
from  the  grave,  was  at  length  recognized  as  that  of  a 
grey-headed  domestic,  whose  life,  together  with  that 
of  a  long  line  of  forefathers,  had  been  passed  under 
the  roof  of  Habingdon.  Harold  addressed  him  in  a 
feeble  whisper,  and  the  old  man,  comprehending  his 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  61 

situation,  procured  refreshments,  which  were  cau- 
tiously administered,  until  in  due  time  he  was  con- 
veyed to  his  home. 

Many  days  elapsed  before  Harold  recovered  suffi- 
ciently to  leave  his  bed,  and  totter  to  the  window, 
there  to  inhale  the  sweet  morning  air,  and  enjoy  the 
beauties  of  what  almost  seemed  a  new  world  spread 
out  before  him.  Every  object  appeared  invested  with 
a  new  and  inexpressible  charm,  and  the  music  of  the 
birds  was  as  the  voice  of  long  lost  friends  welcoming 
him  home  again.  In  the  course  of  his  convalescence 
he  learned  the  mystery  of  his  unaccountable  desertion 
in  prison,  which  at  times  he  had  ascribed  to  the  ma- 
lice of  Justice  Shorthose.  But  with  all  his  manifold 
offences  the  Justice  was  innocent  of  any  intention  of 
starving  his  prisoner.  He  did  not  scruple  at  inflicting 
stripes,  and  his  conscience  would  go  to  the  length  of 
slitting  noses,  or  cutting  off  ears  ;  but  to  do  him  jus- 
tice starvation  was  beyond  the  sphere  of  his  depravity, 
which,  in  fact,  proceeded  less  from  nature  than  the 
union  of  sectarian  zeal  with  a  vehement  desire  to 
make  himself  agreeable  to  the  higher  powers  that  set 
him  the  example. 

The  truth  is,  that  on  quitting  the  prison,  after  the 
forcible  abduction  of  his  prisoners,  he  had  been  so 
hooted  and  pelted  by  the  townsmen,  who  had  many 
old  scores  to  settle  with  him,  and  were  withal  incited 
to  violence  by  the  example  of  King  and  Parliament, 
that  he  was  fain  to  seek  shelter  in  the  house  of  a  rela- 
tive, whence  he  made  his  escape  in  the  middle  of  the 


02  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

night.  To  make  an  end  of  this  important  personage, 
who  will  appear  no  more  in  our  history,  we  will 
shortly  state  for  the  gratification  of  the  curious  read- 
er, that  he  remained  the  most  loyal  of  subjects  until 
after  the  battle  of  Naseby,  when  he  turned  Round- 
head, cropped  his  hair,  prayed,  not  in  secret,  and  ex- 
horted vociferously.  Thus  he  continued  till  the  resto- 
ration, when,  happily  shielded  by  his  insignificance 
from  the  consequences  of  his  backslidings,  he  came  in 
with  the  full  tide  of  loyalty,  and  was  rewarded  by  his 
grateful  sovereign  after  the  manner  of  that  merry 
monarch. 

The  Justice  having  absconded,  the  jailor,  and  other 
officials  who  had  become  equally  distasteful  to  the 
townsmen,  followed  his  example,  and  departed  with- 
out taking  leave.  Thus  the  prison  was  left  solely  to 
the  occupancy  of  Harold,  who  remained  unnoticed, 
either  because  no  one  suspected  his  being  there,  or 
that  he  was  completely  forgotten  in  the  ferment  of 
that  civil  commotion  which  might  now  be  said  to  mo- 
nopolize every  thought  and  feeling.  That  he  did  not 
actually  perish  from  hunger,  was  owing  to  a  mere  ac- 
cident, or  as  Israel  Baneswright  always  affirmed,  a 
special  interposition  of  Providence.  However  this 
may  be,  thus  it  was. . 

The  old  house  of  Habingdon  on  being  taken  posses- 
sion of  by  the  pursuivant,  was  cleared  of  all  the  ser- 
vants except  one  Gilbert  Taverner,  the  old  household 
factotum,  who  was  permitted  to  remain  partly  for  the 
purpose  of  being  useful,  partly  to  save  appearances. 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  D«5 

The  others  found  a  home  or  employment  elsewhere, 
and  did  not  trouble  themselves  about  the  affairs  of 
Harold.  As  to  old  Gilbert,  he  shrank  with  the  nat- 
ural timidity  of  servitude  from  meddling  with  what 
did  not  come  within  the  sphere  of  his  household 
duties,  and  most  especially  from  all  intercourse  with 
Master  Justice  Shorthose,  who  was  as  much  the  terror 
of  good,  as  evil  doers.  He  was  a  perfect  man  ma- 
chine, and  had  been  for  at  least  half  a  century  moving 
exactly  in  the  same  circle,  doing  the  same  things,  at 
the  same  hour,  and  in  the  same  order  of  succession, 
without  thinking  of  any  other  earthly  matter.  He 
revolved  like  a  planet  within  the  inflexible  sphere  of 
attraction,  and  it  is  said  never  forgot  to  strap  his  mas- 
ter's razor  but  once  in  his  youth,  when  he  was  sorely 
smitten  with  the  milkmaid.  Gilbert  was  totally  ig- 
norant of  the  abdication  of  the  Justice,  the  town  being 
six  miles  from  Habingdon,  a  distance  he  never  travel- 
led even  in  imagination. 

Thus  matters  stood  while  Harold  was  suffering  the 
most  painful  infliction  to  which  man  perhaps  can  be 
doomed,  when  a  stranger  made  his  appearance  in  the 
town,  inquiring  for  Master  Harold  Habingdon,  and 
proceeded  towards  the  residence  of  that  young  man, 
according  to  the  directions  given. %  The  first  person  he 
met  on  arriving  there  was  Gilbert,  to  whom  he  pre- 
sented a  letter  from  Israel  Baneswright,  for  his  mas- 
ter. Gilbert  referred  him  to  the  prison,  but  was 
answered  by  the  messenger,  that  the  prison  was 
empty,  and  the  Justice  as  well  as  his  officials  run 


64  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

away.  The  old  man  was  somewhat  startled  from  his 
orbit  at  this  information,  and  it  was  sometime  before 
he  could  comprehend  the  exigencies  of  this  new  pre- 
dicament. At  length  rallying  his  dormant  faculties, 
he  bethought  himself  of  consulting  the  messenger 
who  sagely  advised  him  to  proceed  forthwith  to  town 
and  inquire  what  had  become  of  the  young  gentleman. 
By  this  time  Gilbert  had  so  far  recovered  himself,  as 
to  detect  in  the  costume,  close  cropt  hair,  and  nasal 
twang,  a  veritable  Roundhead  in  the  person  of  his 
visitor.  As  a  faithful  servant,  he  felt  himself  bound 
to  follow  in  the  footsteps  of  his  deceased  master,  and 
was  accordingly  a  devoted  disciple  of  the  doctrine  of 
passive  obedience  and  non-resistance.  He  waxed  ex- 
ceedingly wroth  and  bitter  on  thus  recognizing  one  of 
the  king's  enemies  ;  absolutely  refused  to  receive  the 
letter,  marched  into  the  house,  and  slammed  the  door 
in  the  face  of  the  messenger,  who  could  just  distin- 
guish the  word  Crop-ear,  uttered  with  bitter  emphasis. 
Hereupon  he  threw  the  letter  into  an  open  window, 
and  departed,  chanting  a  godly  hymn  in  stout  defiance. 
When  Gilbert  Taverner  became  cool  again,  his 
mind  reverted  to  young  Master  Harold  who  had  suc- 
ceeded his  father  in  the  affections  of  the  old  man. 
He  straightway  entered  into  a  deep  and  rather  con- 
fused cogitation  concerning  the  course  proper  to  be 
pursued  on  this  occasion,  the  result  of  which,  though 
it  went  greatly  against  the  grain,  was  a  determination 
to  follow  the  advice  of  the  Crop-ear,  and  proceed  to 
the  town  for  the  purpose  of  ascertaining  the  fate  of 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  65 

Harold.  But  still  he  shrunk  from  this  daring  exploit, 
and  ever  and  anon  relapsed  into  doubt  or  despair. 
"  I  am  a  perfect  stranger  in  these  remote,  parts," 
thought  he,  "  and  who  will  clean  the  knives,  or  set 
the  table,  while  I  am  away  at  such  a  distance  ?" — for 
be  it  known  that  Gilbert,  though  his  old  master  was 
dead,  and  his  young  master  no  one  knew  where,  con- 
tinued to  go  through  the  regular  course  of  his  duties, 
from  the  mere  force  of  habit. 

Thus  he  remained  as  it  were  at  a  stand  amid  con- 
flicting eddies.  He  whistled,  and  fidgetted  about  in 
great  perplexity  what  course  to  pursue  ;  but  at  length 
habit  got  the  better  of  all  competitors,  and  he  insensi- 
bly found  himself  occupied  as  usual  in  the  daily  rou- 
tine of  household  duties.  Having  gone  through 
these  with  satisfaction  to  himself,  he  was  at  leisure  to 
attend  to  the  affairs  of  his  young  master,  and  after  a 
deal  of  hesitation  accompanied  by  abundance  of  wry 
faces,  at  length  resolved  to  adopt  the  suggestion  of  the 
Crop-eared  messenger.  Accordingly,  having  secured 
the  silver  spoons — a  family  heirloom — locked  the  door, 
and  put  the  key  in  his  pocket,  he  proceeded  to  town 
for  the  purpose  of  ascertaining  the  fate  of  Harold.  The 
result  of  his  mission  has  already  been  detailed. 

The  letter  from  Israel  Baneswright  was  filled  with 
fervent  exhortations  to  join  heart  and  hand  in  main- 
taining civil  and  religious  liberty,  which  were  now  to 
stand  or  fall  together.  It  was  written  with  all  that 
fiery  eloquence  of  enthusiasm  which,  when  excited 
in  a  righteous  cause  is  irresistible,  and  when  in  that 


66  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

of  error,  potent  for  mischief.  But  not  a  word  was  said 
about  his  wife  and  daughter,  nor  did  the  date  of  the 
letter  give  any  indication  of  the  place  of  his  sojourn- 
ing. The  mind  of  Harold  had,  during  his  convales- 
cence, dwelt  intently  on  his  present  situation  and 
future  prospects.  The  uprising  of  the  people  in  the 
neighborhood  had  frightened  away  the  pursuivant 
who  held  possession  of  Habingdon,  and  the  death  of 
his  father  had  left  him  master  of  himself  as  well  as 
his  property.  He  was,  on  one  hand,  swayed  by  the 
powerful  influence  of  hereditary  feelings  or  prejudices, 
call  them  what  you  will,  as  well  as  by  the  habits  of 
his  life,  the  bias  of  education,  and  the  force  of  ex- 
ample ;  on  the  other  by  having  not  only  seen,  but 
suffered  under  the  abuse  of  power  in  his  own  person  ; 
doubts,  almost  amounting  to  conviction  of  the  legiti- 
macy of  that  authority  which  could  be  perverted  to 
the  purposes  of  oppression ;  and  what  was  perhaps 
still  more  influential  in  turning  the  scale,  a  quiet, 
deep-rooted  affection  for  Susan  Baneswright,  his  fel- 
low sufferer  under  oppression. 

But  Harold  possessed  a  weighty  and  capacious 
mind  ;  a  temper  though  warm  and  energetic,  qualified 
by  the  power  of  restraint  and  conviction.  He  was 
accustomed  to  deliberate  Jong  and  coolly  on  subjects 
*>f  great  concern  ;  and  it  was  only  when  thoroughly 
convinced,  that  he  acted  with  a  prompt  enthusiasm 
little  suspected  of  forming  the  basis  of  his  character. 
He  drew  the  bow  and  took  aim  deliberately,  but  the 
arrow  once  sped,  could  never  be  recalled. 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  67 

While  still  in  doubt  as  to  his  future  course,  he  was 
surprised  by  a  visit  from  Israel  Baneswright,  who 
seemed  to  have  been  wrought  up  to  a  state  of  excite- 
ment amounting  to  wild  fanaticism.  He  scarcely  al- 
lowed time  for  the  usual  salutations,  when  he  entered 
on  the  only  subject  that  occupied  his  heart. 

"  Why  art  thou  here,  0  man  of  little  patriotism, 
and  still  less  faith  ?  Is  this  a  time  for  a  son  of  Eng- 
land to  skulk  within  the  walls  of  his  father's  house, 
while  others  are  abroad  in  the  field,  shedding  their 
blood  in  defence  of  those  rights  of  which  if  secured  he 
will  equally  partake,  and  which  if  lost  must  render 
him  an  abject  slave  to  the  will  of  a  fellow  worm  ?  Is 
this  a  time  to  stand  an  idle  spectator,  while  the 
great  question  is  about  being  decided,  whether  or 
not  the  mind  and  body  shall  be  equally  crushed 
under  the  hei-1  of  power,  and  the  reason  of  man  be 
no  longer  applied  to  the  concerns  of  either  earth  or 
Heaven  ? 

"  Sluggard,  why  standest  thou  here  all  the  day 
idle  ?  Dost  thou  not  know  that  thy  mother  is  strug- 
gling in  the  arms  of  the  ravisher,  and  calling  on  her 
children  to  rescue  her?  All  is  at  stake  and  thou  art 
doing  nothing.  Awake  !  arise  ! — G-ird  on  the  sword  ; 
or  if  thou  canst  not  wield  a  sword,  go  forth  like  David 
with  a  sling  and  a  stone — or  go  forth  with  thy  naked 
arm,  for  the  Great  Jehovah  is  on  thy  side,  and  the 
courageous,  determined  spirit  is  more  potent  than  the 
sharp-edged  steel,  in  the  hands  of  the  Philistines." 

To  this  fiery  exhortation  Harold  calmly  replied, 


68  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

"My  friend,  I  have  been  long  considering  the  sub- 
ject, and — 

"  Considering  !"  cried  Israel  impatiently — "  Is  this 
a  time  for  consideration,  when  a  single  battle,  yea,  a 
single  arm  may  decide  the  future  fate  of  thee  and 
thine,  and  of  every  man  that  breathes  in  this  oppress- 
ed land — of  millions  living  and  countless  millions  yet 
unborn  ?  Dost  thou  stand  here  selfishly  weighing  thy 
petty  interests,  and  personal  ease,  against  the  freedom 
and  happiness,  the  bodies  and  souls  of  long  generations 
yet  to  come  ?  Dost  thou  not  know  that  the  Bill  of 
Rights,  the  great  charter,  not  of  the  nobles  but  the 
people,  hath  already  been  sealed  with  blood — that  the 
blood  of  the  righteous  as  well  as  that  of  the  wicked 
must  flow  in  torrents  ere  it  can  wash  away  the  sins 
of  the  people  and  their  rulers  ?  A  despotic  king  and 
a  persecuting  church  are  now  engaged  in  a  desperate 
struggle  with  an  oppressed  people ;  and  when  force  is 
resorted  unto  to  bring  about  the  ends  of  Providence, 
force  must  decide  the  contest.  Courage  and  patriot- 
ism on  the  part  of  mortals  is  necessary  to  prove  them 
worthy  the  assistance  of  an  almighty  arm  ;  for  be  as- 
sured that  miracles  were  never  yet  wrought  in  behalf 
of  those  who  were  too  base  and  degraded  to  help 
themselves.  Cowards  can  never  be  free,  and  man 
must  be  inspired  with  the  contempt  of  death,  ere  he 
can  hope  to  wrest  the  prize  of  liberty  from  the  grasp 
of  the  tyrant.  "Why  art  thou  not  in  the  stirrup  and 
the  field  ?" 

"  Listen   to   me    calmly,    I   beseech   thee    Master 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  69 

Baneswright,"  replied  Harold  not  unmoved,  "on  occa- 
sions when  we  are  about  taking  a  decisive  step — to 
risk  all — nothing  should  be  decided  rashly.  I  was 
going  to  tell  you  that  I  have  for  some  time  been  debat- 
ing with  myself  as  to  the  course  I  should  take — 
whether  to  remain  neutral — " 

"Neutral!" — again  interrupted  Israel — "Neutral! 
Dost  thou,  a  worm  of  the  dust,  expect  to  look  on  in 
peace  while  all  around  thee  is  in  convulsions  ?  Dost 
thou  hope  to  crawl  into  the  ground,  and  there  remain 
quiet  while  the  world  is  rocking  with  earthquakes  ? 
The  whirlpool  is  all  about  thee,  and  dost  thou  think  to 
float  round  and  round  in  endless  circles,  without  being 
at  length  drawn  into  the  vortex  ?  Believe  it  not — hope 
it  not.  Thou  must  take  sides,  or  be  buffetted  by  both 
sides  ;  and  if  neither  conscience  nor  patriotism,  nei- 
ther reverence  for  thy  Maker,  nor  love  to  thy  fellow 
man  can  sway  thy  leaden  purposes,  look  to  thyself, 
since  self  is  thine  only  monitor,  and  be  assured  that 
so  long  as  this  strife  shall  last,  if  thou  dost  not  declare 
for  either  Parliament  or  King,  thou  wilt  fare  like  the 
bat  in  the  fable,  and  be  despised  and  disclaimed  by 
both  parties." 

"  I  was  about  to  tell  you,"  said  Harold,  "  that  I 
had  made  up  my  mind  not  to  remain  neutral. 

"  Well,"  cried  the  other  impatiently. 

"  That  I  had  all  but  determined  to  take  up  arms  in 
behalf  of  the  Parliament.  But — " 

"  Hear  me,"  cried  Israel,  who  could  no  longer  rein 
in  the  fiery  steed  on  which  he  was  mounted.  "  Hear 


70  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

me,  young  man,  let  me  ask  you  one  question,  and  be 
thy  answer  without  disguise.  Dost  thou  not  love  my 
daughter  Susan  ?" 

"  I  do,"  said  Harold  eagerly,  "  with  all  my  soul, 
though  I  have  never  told  her  so." 

"  Not  with  thy  lips,  perhaps  ;  but  there  is  another 
language  equally  explicit.  Suffice  it  that  I  noticed 
the  glances  that  passed  between  thee  and  my  daughter 
in  prison,  and  more  especially  at  parting.  As  a 
parent  it  became  me  to  question  her  on  the  subject, 
and  as  a  dutiful  daughter,  whose  heart  hath  been 
always  open  to  her  father,  she  acknowledged  that 
couldest  thou  be  persuaded  to  walk  in  the  way  of  righte- 
ousness, if  it  pleased  Heaven,  she  would  willingly  live 
and  die  thy  helpmate — nay,  interrupt  me  not — but 
hear  what  I  say,  Harold  Habingdon.  If  thou  provest 
craven  to  the  just  and  holy  cause  now  at  issue  in  the 
land  ;  and  above  all,  if  thou  shouldest  seek  fellowship 
with  its  enemies,  in  the  sight  of  Heaven  I  solemnly 
declare,  thou  shalt  never  see  my  daughter  more.  No 
son  of  Belial  shall  be  a  son  of  mine.  Farewell — I 
shall  know  of  thy  decision.  If  right,  thou  shalt  hear 
from  me,  and  peradventure  we  may  smite  the  Philis- 
tines together.  If  wrong,  we  never  meet  again  except 
in  mortal  fight,  for  if  necessary  I  too  will  become  a 
man  of  blood,  in  so  far  that  I  will  strengthen  men  of 
blood  with  my  exhortations. 

Saying  this,  Israel  suddenly  departed  without  await- 
ing any  reply,  leaving  Harold  agitated  by  a  whirlwind 
of  conflicting  feelings.  But  this  did  not  last  long,  and 


TilK    I'L'IUTAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  71 

the  tempest  soon  subsided  into  the  calm  of  determina- 
tion. He  resolved  to  join  the  Parliamentary  forces,  as 
soon  as  the  necessary  preparations  could  be  made. 
Though  his  reason  in  a  great  measure  coincided  with 
this  decision,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  it  was  Susan 
Baneswright,  and  not  the  exhortations  of  her  father, 
that  decided  the  course  of  his  future  life.  The  con- 
fession of  that  gentle  girl  from  this  time  guided  his 
sword,  and  animated  his  spirit  through  all  the  sad 
vicissitudes  of  civil  strife.  The  die  was  at  length 
thrown  by  love,  who,  casting  himself  into  the  wavering 
scale,  outweighed  all  other  considerations,  and  the 
cause  of  loyalty  kicked  the  beam.  Hitherto  he  had 
been  only  the  cotemporary  of  past  ages  ;  henceforward 
he  became  associated  with  the  present  and  the  future. 


CHAPTER     IV. 

Harold  Joins  the  Parliamentary  Forces — the  Fortunes  of  War — He 
Makes  Acquaintance  with  a  Man  of  whom  there  is  but  One  Opinion, 
and  of  Another  of  whom  there  are  Many — Scene  on  the  Field  of 
Battle,  and  Exit  of  Israel  Baneswright — Change  from  the  Field  of 
Blood  to  the  Fields  of  Rural  Life — Coelebs  in  Search  of  a  Wife — 
Finds  by  Chance  what  He  Missed  in  Seeking. 

DURING  the  somewhat  tedious  recovery  of  Harold, 
and  his  subsequent  irresolution,  both  parties  had  been 
engaged  in  active  hostilities,  unaccompanied  by  any 
decisive  result.  The  battle  of  Edgehill  had  been 
fought  with  doubtful  success,  and  the  intervals  of 
action  were  occupied  by  negociations  in  which,  it  is 
believed  neither  party  was  sincere.  Mutual  proposi- 
tions for  peace  were  made  and  declined  under  various 
pretences,  and  it  had  become  evident  to  those  who 
looked  beneath  the  surface,  that  the  contest  could  only 
be  decided  by  the  sword.  Accordingly,  both  parties 
braced  themselves  for  the  final  issue. 

The  Earl  of  Essex  was  at  the  head  of  the  Parlia- 
mentary forces,  and  had  already  excited  the  jealousy 
of  the  leaders  of  the  House  of  Commons,  by  his  inac- 
tivity, as  well  as  want  of  vigilance.  Thus  far  the  re- 
sult of  the  struggle  seemed  extremely  doubtful.  The 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  73 

King  had  been  successful  in  Cornwall,  and  other  parts 
of  the  kingdom:  misunderstandings  subsisted  among 
the  Parliamentary  generals,  who  of  course  did  not 
cordially  co-operate  :  and  it  was  daily  becoming  more 
evident,  that  Essex,  as  well  as  several  other  noblemen 
who  had  taken  arms  against  the  King,  were  not  exact- 
ly on  the  side  of  the  people.  Though  ready  to  oppose 
the  despotic  claims  of  Charles,  so  far  as  they  interfered 
with  their  own  exclusive  privileges,  they  were  by  no 
means  prepared  to  strip  him  quite  bare  of  his  preroga- 
tive ;  and  without  doubt,  by  this  time  began  to  per- 
ceive, or  at  least  suspect,  that  if  finally  successful,  the 
popular  leaders  would  not  stop  at,  a  redress  of  griev- 
ances. In  short,  they  began  to  fear  for  themselves  and 
their  order.  A  people  struggling  for  freedom  can 
never  place  any  just  reliance  in  those  who  monopolize 
in  a  great  degree  the  benefits  of  the  abuse  of  power ; 
nor  should  they  ever  choose  them,  for  leaders.  The 
chief  of  a  revolution  which  has  for  its  object  the 
attainment  of  equal  rights,  rather  than  a  mere  change 
of  dynasty,  should  be  a  child  of  the  revolution,  sharing 
the  sympathies,  partaking  in  the  grievances  of  the 
people,  and  claiming  a  legitimate  right  to  command, 
not  from  superiority  of  rank,  but  of  talents,  vigor  and 
patriotism. 

Harold  had  left  home  on  horseback,  placing  his 
domestic  affairs  in  charge  of  honest  Gilbert,  who  con- 
tinued to  set  out  the  dinner  table  every  day  at  the 
same  hour,  and  in  the  same  manner  as  if  his  master 
was  present,  until  at  length,  perceiving  with  great  sur- 
4 


74  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGIMTU. 

prise,  that  no  one  attended,  he  relinquished  the  practice 
in  despair.  It  is  said,  with  what  truth  we  know  not, 
that  he  afterwards  occupied  the  dinner  hour  in  wan- 
dering about  the  house  as  if  looking  for  somebody  that 
was  missing.  The  reader  may  perhaps  question  the 
prudence  of  Harold  in  leaving  his  affairs  in  the  hands 
of  old  Gilbert.  But  it  was  in  fact  Hobson's  choice ;  he 
had  neither  kindred,  acquaintance,  or  friend  around 
him  ;  and  in  the  confusion  of  the  times,  perhaps  justly 
concluded  that  upon  the  whole  he  might  as  well  trust 
to  Providence  and  Gilbert. 

The  journey  of  Harold  was  devoid  of  incident  or  ac- 
cident, and  he  joined  the  Parliamentary  forces,  at  that 
time  encamped  on  Turnham  Green,  under  the  Earl  of 
Essex.  The  royal  army  was  close  at  hand,  the  King 
having  taken  advantage  of  a  negociation  for  peace  then 
in  progress  to  make  a  rapid  march  upon  the  city  of 
London,  in  the  course  of  which  he  surprised  two  regi- 
ments of  the  hostile  troops,  which  were  cut  off  almost 
to  a  man.  Being  admitted  a  private  in  a  troop  of  horse 
attached  to  the  Train  Bands,  he  at  once  entered  on 
active  service.  A  battle  was  hourly  expected,  and 
Skippon,  the  sturdy  leader  of  the  Train  Bands,  composed 
of  London  apprentices,  in  anticipation  of  this  event,  took 
occasion  to  address  them  in  the  following  pithy  and 
characteristic  words:  "Come,  my  brave  boys,  let  us 
pray  heartily,  and  fight  heartily.  I  will  run  the  same 
fortunes  and  hazards  with  you.  Remember  the  cause 
is  for  God,  for  the  defence  of  your  wives  and  children. 
Come  my  boys,  let  us  pray  heartily,  and  fight  heartily." 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  75 

Such  was  the  spirit  which  animated  a  large  portion 
of  the  Parliamentary  army,  and  it  is  not  to  be  won- 
dered at  that  they  ultimately  conquered.  Religious 
enthusiasm  had  been  arrayed  against  the  sentiment 
of  loyalty ;  and  devotion  to  the  King  was  met  by  the 
far  more  powerful  influence  of  devotion  to  a  higher 
power.  The  love  of  liberty  was  combined  with  the 
enthusiasm  of  religion,  and  the  two  united  proved 
irresistible. 

That  a  great  majority  of  the  Puritans  of  that  age 
were  sincere  in  their  professions,  notwithstanding  the 
charge  of  hypocrisy  so  often  urged  against  them  by 
the  Loyalists,  and  reiterated  by  succeeding  English 
historians,  we  think  can  scarcely  be  doubted.  Crom- 
well may  have  been  a  hypocrite,  though  this  appears 
extremely  doubtful ;  but  his  followers  were  unques- 
tionably sincere,  as  they  proved  on  various  occasions  by 
freely  sacrificing  themselves  on  the  field  of  battle.  If 
any  additional  proof  be  required,  let  us  cast  our  eyes 
towards  the  band  of  Pilgrims,  who  sacrificed  their 
country,  home,  kindred,  friends,  and  all  those  associa- 
tions of  early  days  that  cling  closest  to  the  heart  of 
man,  to  seek  the  far  distant  wilds  of  a  new  world  ;  to 
cope  with  danger,  death  and  famine ;  to  struggle  with 
the  wintry  winds ;  to  war  with  the  fury  of  wild  beasts 
and  the  wiles  of  savage  men  ;  to  labor  in  the  fields, 
and  worship  in  churches  with  arms  in  their  hands,  and 
meet  the  trying  exigencies  of  a  keen,  inhospitable  cli- 
mate, divested  of  all  the  common  comforts  of  life.  To 
doubt  the  sincerity  of  these  were  to  question  the  faith 


76  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

of  the  primitive  martyrs,  who  offered  up  their  lives  on 
the  wheel  or  at  the  stake,  and  sped  their  last  breath 
in  songs  of  triumph. 

But  to  resume  our  narrative.  To  the  disappoint- 
ment and  disgust  of  his  army,  Essex,  it  is  said  by 
the  advise  of  some  of  the  noblemen  who  served  under 
him,  strenuously  opposed  by  that  of  a  majority  of  the 
others,  instead  of  offering  battle  to  the  King  while  fac- 
ing him  for  several  hours,  suddenly  wheeled  about,  and 
retreated  to  London,  without  being  pursued.  His  sub- 
sequent conduct  was  such  as  to  increase  the  suspicions 
already  entertained  by  his  partisans,  and  inspire  the 
enemy  with  new  hopes  of  final  success. 

Without  entering  into  a  detail  of  the  events  which 
succeeded,  and  in  which  Harold  was  not  immediately 
concerned,  we  shall  content  ourselves  with  noticing  the 
skirmish  of  Chalgrove  Field,  in  which  the  conduct  of 
Essex  was  again  equivocal  and  unsatisfactory.  An 
excursion  of  Prince  Rupert  from  Oxford,  the  head- 
quarters of  the  King,  had  alarmed  the  neighboring 
counties,  and  the  Parliamentary  forces  were  eagerly 
following  him,  as  he  retreated  laden  with  booty. 
Among  the  foremost  on  this  occasion  was  the  patriot 
Hampden,  who  though  an  officer  of  foot,  joined  a 
body  of  cavalry  of  which  Harold  was  one.  They  over- 
took the  Prince  at  Chalgrove  Field,  and  in  their  eager- 
ness, advancing  too  rapidly,  were  environed  by  the 
enemy  and  cut  to  pieces.  Almost  at  the  first  discharge, 
Hampden  had  been  shot  in  the  shoulder  with  a  brace 
of  bullets,  and  one  of  the  prisoners  to  the  Royalists 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  77 

reported  that  he  had  seen  him  early  in  the  action, 
slowly  quitting  the  field,  his  head  hanging  down,  and 
his  arms  resting  on  the  neck  of  his  horse. 

Harold,  too,  had  been  rather  severely  wounded,  and 
on  leaving  the  field,  it  so  chanced  that  in  his  progress 
towards  the  main  body  of  the  patriot  army,  he  over- 
took Hampden,  who  appeared  on  the  point  of  dropping 
from  his  horse.  Though  in  little  better  plight,  he  en- 
deavored to  assist  him  to  the  utmost  of  his  power ;  but 
the  strength  of  both  failed  them  rapidly,  and  seeing  a 
comfortable-looking  farm  house  at  a  little  distance, 
somewhat  retired  from  the  road,  he  proposed  to  attempt 
to  gain  it  before  they  became  entirely  exhausted.  Ac- 
cordingly thither  they  proceeded,  and  were  kindly  re- 
ceived by  the  master  of  the  house,  who  was  devoted  to 
the  same  cause,  though  too  aged  to  take  an  active  part 
in  the  struggle. 

Prince  Rupert,  who  generally  lost  by  impetuosity 
what  he  gained  by  valor,  having  succeeded  in  reach- 
ing Oxford  with  his  booty,  while  Essex  was  looking 
on,  the  Parliamentary  army  remained  master  of  the 
field.  The  situation  of  Hampden  and  Harold  prevent- 
ed their  removal,  and  the  latter  found  himself  compa- 
nion in  suffering  with  this  illustrious  patriot,  during 
the  brief  remaining  period  of  his  existence.  Though 
suffering  exquisite  pain  he  maintained  a  perfect  absti- 
nence from  all  complaint,  and  apparently  forgetting 
himself  thought  only  of  his  country.  Being  engaged 
in  the  same  cause,  and  fellows  in  suffering,  they  occa- 
sionally communed  with  each  other  on  the  state  of 


78  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

public  affairs.  At  these  times  Harold  listened  with 
respectful  deference  to  the  voice  of  wisdom  and  patriot- 
ism proceeding  as  it  were  from  the  grave,  for  it  became 
every  moment  more  evident  that  his  hours  were  num- 
bered, and  were  but  few.  The  day  preceding  his  death, 
when  the  weakness  of  nature  had  overborne  the  capa- 
city for  suffering,  the  great  patriot  of  England,  after 
long  silence  and  deep  reflection,  addressed  Harold,  as 
follows : 

"  The  die  is  cast,  and  my  earthly  career  is  over.  I 
could  have  wished  to  bear  my  part  in  the  great  contest 
now  at  issue,  and  to  have  seen  the  final  result,  whe- 
ther successful  or  not ;  for  I  did  not  ask  myself  when 
I  took  arms  against  my  sovereign  but  the  single  ques- 
tion, whether  or  not  our  cause  was  just.  It  was 
enough  for  me  that  England  was  oppressed,  and  that 
all  men  have  a  natural  right  to  resist  oppression  how- 
ever sanctioned  by  precedent,  or  hallowed  by  time. 
Antiquity  is  no  warrant  for  abuses  ;  on  the  contrary 
the  longer  a  nation  has  suffered  them,  the  greater  rea- 
son they  should  be  relieved  as  soon  as  possible." 

After  pausing  a  few  minutes  to  recover  breath,  he 
proceeded — 

"  But  I  am  called  away,  as  it  were,  at  the  dawn  of 
morning,  perhaps  in  mercy  that  I  may  not  see  the 
darkness  of  the  night  that  may  succeed.  For  I  will 
not  conceal  from  you,  my  young  companion  in  calam- 
ity, that  my  hopes  diminish,  in  proportion  as  the 
prospect  of  a  successful  issue  in  the  strife  of  arms  in- 
creases. I  do  not  fear  the  people,  but  their  leaders ; 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  79 

for  the  people  are  ever  right,  except  when  deceived  by 
those  they  trust,  and  always  successful,  except  when 
betrayed.  But  there  are  among  us  wolves  in  sheep's 
clothing,  who  I  suspect  will  betray  the  flock  to  the 
midnight  robber.  As  might  be  expected — for  such  is 
ever  the  mixture  of  liberal  and  selfish  motives,  in  all 
the  great,  as  well  as  little  affairs  in  which  man  is  the 
instrument — the  noblest  motives  are  often  mingled 
with  the  meanest.  Patriotism,  which  is  the  highest 
of  earthly  influences,  is  profaned  by  an  association 
with  selfishness,  the  meanest  of  them  all. 

"  Already  I  perceive  increasing  symptoms  of  aliena- 
tion among  some  of  our  chief  leaders,  and  those,  too, 
whose  rank  and  wealth  give  them  the  most  extensive 
influence  ;  struggles  among  others  of  meaner  rank, 
for  the  spoils  even  before  they  are  won ;  and  a  general 
want  of  that  concert  of  action,  if  not  of  opinion,  which 
from  first  to  last,  in  all  past  time,  has  been  the  bane 
of  all  parties  without  an  acknowledged  head,  to  whom 
long  established  laws,  and  immemorial  custom,  have 
prepared  men  to  be  obedient.  The  King  is  weak,  if 
not  unprincipled,  and  in  the  hands  of  still  weaker  and 
more  wicked  councillors.  There  is  no  longer  any  con- 
fidence to  be  placed  in  his  word,  which  is  the  only 
bond  of  those  who  claim  to  be  above  the  law.  He  will 
lose  his  cause,  for  he  knows  not  how  to  fight  or  nego- 
ciate ;  to  make  war  or  peace.  "VVe  shall,  in  all  human 
probability,  gain  the  power  to  do  what  I  and  some 
others  had  in  view,  when  forced  to  seek  redress  by  the 
sword ;  but  I  greatly  fear  it  may  be  so  abused  by  con- 


80  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS     DAUGHTER. 

tending  factions,  attaining  a  temporary  ascendancy, 
that  the  people  wearied  and  disgusted  by  repeated 
disappointments,  and  sick  of  the  struggles  of  leaders, 
whose  incapacity  will  be  only  equalled  by  their  ambi- 
tion, will  at  length  be  wrought  upon  to  return  like  the 
dog  to  his  vomit,  and  restore  without  reservation  the 
same  power  to  the  same  despot  by  whom  it  was 
abused. 

"  If  such  should  be  the  case — which  Heaven  avert ! 
it  will  speedily  be  followed  ere  long  by  another  revo- 
lution, the  offspring  of  the  first;  and  England  will  be 
again  doomed  to  pay  a  second  price  for  a  blessing  she 
heedlessly  threw  away.  Thus,  my  young  friend,  we 
who  shed  our  blood  will  not  shed  it  in  vain.  It  will 
not,  like  the  rivers  of  the  desert,  sink  into  the  earth 
without  yielding  either  flowers  or  fruits  ;  its  product 
will  eventually  be  the  enjoyment  of  a  rational  liberty, 
which  could  not  have  been  obtained  without  martyrs. 
With  this  conviction  I  die,  and  with  it  I  die  content, 
leaving  my  motives,  acts,  and  opinions,  to  the  judg- 
ment of  posterity." 

These  sentiments  were  uttered  at  intervals,  as  his 
exhausted  strength  permitted,  and  when  finished,  the 
dying  patriot  sank  exhausted  on  his  pillow,  where  he 
lay  some  hours  without  another  word.  Thus  he  quiet- 
ly passed  away,  apparently  without  pain,  and  without 
fear.  The  Royalists  exulted  in  his  death,  which  had 
rid  them  of  their  most  formidable  enemy  ;  while  the 
opposite  party  mourned  it  as  the  loss  of  their  best  friend. 
Like  Washington,  he  has  united  the  suffrage  of  the 


THE    PURITAN    AN7D    HIS    DAUGHTER.  81 

world  in  his  favor.  Posterity  has  but  a  single  voice  in 
speaking  of  Hampden,  who  at  one  time  seemed  to  con- 
centrate in  himself  the  spirit  of  the  nation,  and 
even  the  historian  of  the  Revolution,  himself  a  cour- 
tier, as  well  as  a  loyalist,  who  seldom  ascribes  other 
than  sinister,  or  selfish  motives  for  the  conduct  of 
friend  or  foe,  has  been  compelled  to  yield  to  his  talents 
and  patriotism  the  highest  meed,  that  of  unwilling 
praise. 

The  recovery  of  Harold  was  slow  and  gradual ;  and 
it  was  not  until  the  opening  of  the  next  campaign  that 
he  entered  on  active  service,  when  he  found  great 
changes  had  taken  place  in  the  Parliamentary  army. 
The  self-denying  ordinance,  as  it  was  called,  had  ex- 
cluded a  class  of  officers,  whose  zeal,  if  not  fidelity, 
had  been  suspected;  but  an  exception  was  made  in 
favor  of  Oliver  Cromwell,  who  was  then  at  the  head  of 
the  army  in  fact.  He  had  rapidly  risen  to  distinction, 
by  a  series  of  successful  exploits ;  and  it  was  the  for- 
tune of  Harold,  who  had  been  promoted  to  the  com- 
mand of  a  troop  of  horse,  to  be  frequently  brought  into 
contact  with  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  men  of 
that  or  any  other  age.  Observing  the  quick  decision, 
as  well  as  fearless  courage  of  Harold,  on  various  occa- 
sions of  great  exigency,  Oliver  attached  him  to  his 
person  before  the  end  of  the  campaign,  during  the 
course  of  which  Harold  studied  his  character  intensely, 
only  to  become  more  profoundly  puzzled  by  its  apparent 
inconsistencies. 

The  real  character  of  Cromwell  is  still  a  mystery — 
4* 


82  THK    PURITAN     AND    HIS     DAUGHTER 

partly  from  its  own  deep  profundity,  partly  from  the 
bitter  prejudices  that  are  awakened  in  forming  a 
judgment.  Whether  a  hypocrite,  or  an  enthusiast ;  a 
patriot,  or  a  mere  creature  of  selfish  ambition,  is  a 
question  that  will  probably  never  be  decided.  As- 
suredly, however  his  sincerity  or  his  patriotism  may 
be  questioned,  none  can  doubt  his  qualifications  as  a 
soldier,  or  his  abilities  as  a  statesman  ;  and  the  most 
loyal  Englishman  when  he  denounces  him  as  a  rebel 
and  a  traitor,  should  bear  in  mind,  the  successful  vigor 
with  which  he  asserted  the  honor  of  England,  and 
caused  the  most  potent  monarchs  of  his  time  to  crouch 
at  his  feet.  England  owes  him  more  than  a  host  of 
her  legitimate  monarchs  combined  can  justly  claim, 
and  if  he  accepted  the  sovereignty  he  wielded  it  nobly. 
Though  leader  of  a  band  of  stern  enthusiasts,  who  in 
their  abhorrence  of  the  "  Book  of  Sports,"  had  perhaps 
fallen  into  the  opposite  extreme  of  sour  austerity  ;  and 
though  he  himself  set  the  example  in  zeal,  as  well  as 
sobriety,  yet  were  there  frequent  occasions  in  which 
he  deviated  into  downright  buffoonery.  Though  in 
public  he  was  grave  and  reserved,  in  his  family,  and 
among  his  friends,  his  conversation  was  familiar  and 
diverting.  He  indulged  in  practical  jokes  ;  he  loved 
the  society  of  men  of  wit,  and  his  domestic  chaplain, 
Jeremy  "White,  was  a  great  humorist.  A  grave  old 
chronicler  says,  "Oliver  Cromwell,  the  Protector,  loved 
a  good  voice  and  instrumental  music  well ;  and  when 
Mr.  James  Q,uin,  a  student  of  C.  C.  Oxford,  a  good 
singer,  was  introduced  to  him,  he  heard  him  sing  with 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  83 

great  delight,  liquored  him  with  sack,  and  in  conclu- 
sion said,  '  Mr.  Q,uin,  you  have  done  well,  what  shall 
I  do  for  you  ?'  To  which,  Mr.  Q,uin  made  answer, 
with  great  compliments,  (of  which  he  had  command 
with  great  grace,)  'That  your  Highness  would  be 
pleased  to  restore  me  to  my  student's  place,'  which 
the  Protector  did  accordingly,  and  he  held  it  to  his 
dying  day." 

Oliver's  jokes  were  sometimes  rather  rough,  it  must 
be  acknowledged.  He  would  occasionally,  when  he 
suspected  any  intrigue  was  going  on  in  the  army,  in- 
vite his  inferior  officers  to  an  entertainment,  and  in 
the  midst  of  their  jolity,  order  in  a  company  of  foot- 
guards,  with  beat  of  drum,  to  whisk  the  dishes  away, 
after  the  manner  of  Doctor  Pedro  Positive  de  Snatch- 
away.  While  this  was  in  progress,  Oliver  pelted  them 
with  cushions,  or  put  live  coals  into  their  boots  and 
pockets  ;  and  when  thus  thrown  -off  their  guard  by 
this  sportful  conviviality,  would  wheedle  them  out  of 
all  such  secrets  as  he  desired  to  know.  When  it  suit- 
ed his  purpose,  he  spoke  in  a  style  so  full  of  studied 
perplexity,  that  no  one  could  comprehend  his  meaning ; 
but  when  he  wished  to  be  understood,  he  delivered 
himself  with  a  force  and  vigor  and  clearness,  that 
caused  it  to  be  said  of  him  that  "  His  every  word  was 
a  thought."  But  the  real  character  of  kings  and 
rulers,  who  are  succeeded  by  those  of  opposite  princi- 
ples, is  seldom,  if  ever,  fairly  delineated,  since  histo- 
rians are  either  themselves  infected  with  party  preju- 
dices, or  become  the  organs  of  those  that  are.  Thus 


84  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

it  has  fared  with  Oliver  Cromwell.  The  loyal  Eng- 
lish, while  they  cannot  help  pluming  themselves  on 
the  successful  vigor  of  his  foreign  policy,  which  laid 
the  foundation  of  their  country's  greatness,  still  con- 
sider him  a  hypocrite  and  usurper  ;  while  the  republi- 
cans can  never  forgive  him  for  having  picked  up  a 
sceptre  that  lay  in  his  way,  and  appropriated  to  him- 
self an  authority  that  had  no  owner. 

Under  this  renowned  leader,  Harold  entered  on  a 
career  of  arduous  service,  the  particulars  of  which  will 
be  passed  over,  as  more  properly  belonging  to  history. 
Advanced  to  the  command  of  a  regiment  of  horse,  at 
the  head  of  which  he  greatly  distinguished  himself  at 
the  decisive  battle  of  Naseby,  it  was  once  more  his  for- 
tune to  be  desperately  wounded,  near  the  close  of  the 
action.  He  received  a  musket  ball  in  the  thigh,  which 
caused  so  great  a  loss  of  blood,  that  in  a  few  minutes 
he  fell  from  his  horse  insensible,  where  he  lay  unheed- 
ed, while  his  regiment  rushed  on  in  hot  pursuit  of  the 
flying  Royalists,  leaving  the  scene  of  conflict  among 
the  living,  peopled  only  by  the  dying  and  the  dead. 

Recovering  his  recollection  after  a  brief  interval, 
and  raising  himself  on  his  elbow  with  great  diffi- 
culty, he  looked  around  with  dim  and  glazed  eyes, 
rendered  half  blind  by  weakness  and  exhaustion. 
Both  armies  had  passed  away,  one  in  retreat,  the 
other  in  pursuit.  Nothing  remained  but  the  wounded 
and  dying ;  nothing  was  heard  but  groans  of  anguish 
and  despair.  Some  lay  stretched  on  the  ground  with 
their  pale  faces  turned  to  heaven  :  some  writhing  in 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  85 

agony,  and  tearing  the  earth;  and  here  and  there 
might  be  seen  an  expiring  victim  half  propped  up  by 
a  dead  body.  Enemies  and  friends  now  joined  in  one 
melancholy  concert  of  moans,  and  those  who  from  fel- 
low subjects  had  become  mortal  foes,  now  once  more 
rested  together  in  peace  in  the  long  armistice  of  death. 

Thoughts  like  these  occurred  not  to  him,  for  his 
own  condition  in  a  great  measure  occupied  his  mind, 
and  cooled  his  sympathy  for  others.  He  had  managed 
in  a  degree  to  stop  the  bleeding  of  his  wound  by  the 
application  of  a  handkerchief ;  but  a  faintness  like  that 
of  approaching  dissolution  hung  upon  him,  and  as 
evening  was  now  at  hand,  he  felt  assured  that  if  he 
passed  the  night  on  the  field,  he  would  never  see  the 
dawn  of  morning.  From  the  consideration  of  his  own 
forlorn  state,  he  was  moved  by  a  feeble  voice  exclaim- 
ing— 

"  Is  there  any  one  here  that  knows  Ambrose  Hare- 
fleet?" 

"Yes,"  answered  another  voice  equally  feeble. 

"Who  art  thou  ?"  asked  the  first. 

"  Thy  brother,  Miles." 

"  The  Crop-ear — the  traitor  to  his  king — and  the 
curse  of  his  father" — cried  the  other,  his  voice  strength- 
ening with  indignation. 

"  And  thou,"  said  Miles  Harefleet — "  The  compan- 
ion of  the  sons  of  Belial,  the  persecutor  of  the  faithful, 
and  the  oppressor  of  thy  fellow  subjects.  But  alas  ! 
this  is  no  time  to  dispute  the  justice  of  our  cause.  The 
appeal  has  been  made  to  the  sword  and  there  is  but 


86  THE    PURITAN    ANT)    IKS 

one  higher  tribunal.  Canst  thou  not  crawl  hither,  for 
I  cannot  come  to  thee  to  exchange  forgiveness  and  die 
together." 

The  one  brother  managed,  with  many  moans,  to 
crawl  to  the  other,  and  they  fell  into  each  other's  arms 
weeping. 

"I  forgive  thee,  Miles,  for  drawing  the  sword  against 
thy  king." 

"  And  I  forgive  thee,  Ambrose,  for  drawing  thine 
against  the  people.  But  enough  of  this  bickering. 
Though  we  have  of  late  lived  in  discord,  let  us  die 
in  peace.  Let  us  remember  we  are  brothers  ;  one 
mother  bore,  one  bosom  nourished,  one  country  sus- 
tained, and  one  (rod  will  judge  us  both.  To-day  we 
have  met  in  mortal  fight,  to-night  we  shall  lay  down 
in  peace  together.  Alas  !  my  dear  wife  and  children, 
and  my  dear  country — what  will  become  of  ye  all? — 
Brother !  brother !  give  me  your  hand,  I  am  going." 

The  two  brothers  embraced,  and  lay  for  a  while 
locked  in  each  other's  arms,  without  any  other  evidence 
of  life  than  occasionally  a  low  moan,  bespeaking  the 
agonies  of  nature  in  her  last  struggle.  In  a  short 
time  it  ceased,  and  the  silence  of  death  succeeded. 

This  sad  example  of  the  deplorable  consequences  of 
civil  strife,  which  sets  brother  against  brother,  father 
against  son,  and  severs  all'  the  ties  of  nature  and 
society,  sank  deep  into  the  heart  of  Harold,  who  often 
recalled  it  to  mind,  and  as  often  asked  himself  whether 
even  liberty  was  not  sometimes  too  dearly  purchased. 
But  such  reflections  were  speedily  banished  by  a  sense 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  87 

of  his  own  situation.  Night  was  now  close  at  hand  ; 
he  could  still  feel  the  blood  trickling  from  his  wound, 
and  was  conscious  of  increasing  weakness.  "With  a  last 
despairing  effort  he  raised  himself  sufficiently  to  re- 
cline against  the  body  of  one  whom  he  supposed  dead, 
but  who  feeling  the  pressure  of  his  weight  uttered  a 
low  moan,  at  the  same  time  making  a  feeble  effort  to 
escape  the  burden.  Harold  turned  his  head  towards 
him,  and  at  once  recognized  the  pale  face  of  Israel 
Baneswright,  bearing  the  ghastly  expression  of  ap- 
proaching death.  He  addressed  him  by  name,  but  he 
answered  only  by  a  groan.  At  length  he  gradually 
regained  his  consciousness,  and  in  a  voice  that  seemed 
to  come  from  one  whose  spirit  was  already  on  tip-toe 
for  another  world,  asked  who  was  there. 

"  Your  friend  Harold  Habingdon,"  answered  the 
other,  and  the  name  seemed  to  awaken  the  last  spark 
of  life. 

"  Thou  art  come  too  late  to  help  me,"  said  Israel. 

"Alas  ?  I  am  as  helpless  as  yourself." 

"  Art  thou  too  wounded  ?" 

"Yes,  sorely." 

"  And  in  what  cause  ?  That  of  a  tyrant  king,  or  a 
suffering  people?" 

"I  serve  under  Oliver  Cromwell." 

"  Enough — we  will  then  die  together;  and  I  for  my 
part  would  die  rejoicingly,  did  I  but  know  that  the 
Philistines  have  been  conquered  and  on  the  field  where 
I  perish." 

"  Thy  wish  is  granted.     The  Royal  army  has  been 


88  THK    priUTA.N     AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

defeated  utterly,  and  chased  from  the  field.  I  doubt  if 
it  will  rally  again." 

The  news  seemed  to  awaken  Israel  to  new  life  and 
energy.  He  raised  himself  partly  from  the  ground,  and 
exclaimed  with  an  enthusiasm  that  seemed  only  more 
energetic  from  his  weakness — 

"  Praise  be  to  the  Lord  of  Hosts  !  The  malignant 
adversary  is  smitten,  hip  and  thigh;  the  usurping 
Prelacy  are  sinking  under  the  weight  of  a  persecuted 
people  |  the  kingdom  of  anti-Christ  is  falling,  and  those 
who  have  been  crushed  under  its  foot  shall  crush  it 
under  their  foot  in  turn.  The  great  armies  of  Grog 
and  Magog  are  fleeing  before  the  might  of  the  godly. 
Let  us  pray  with  Joshua,  that  the  sun  may  stand  still 
in  GHdeon,  and  the  moon  in  the  valley  of  Aijalon,  that 
there  be  time  to  smite  the  Philistines,  even  without 
mercy,  as  they  have  dealt  towards  the  children  of 
righteousness." 

Exhausted  by  the  effort,  he  sank  again  to  the  ground 
and  spoke  no  more.  Harold  eagerly  inquired  after 
Susan;  but  he  answered  not.  His  spirit  had  departed, 
and  the  last  breath  of  one  whose  temper  was  originally 
mild  and  forgiving,  was  expended  in  maledictions  on 
his  fellow  creatures.  Such  are  the  effects  of  religious 
persecution,  equally  the  offspring  and  the  parent  of 
bigotry. 

By  this  time  straggling  parties  of  the  victorious 
army  were  beginning  to  return ;  and  commencing  their 
first  duty  to  their  wounded  fellow-soldiers,  discovered 
the  body  of  Harold  still  among  the  living,  but  almost 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  89 

drained  of  the  fountain  of  life.  He  was  borne  to  a  tent, 
where  his  wound  was  examined  and  pronounced  not  in 
itself  mortal,  though  the  great  loss  of  blood  he  had 
sustained  rendered  his  recovery  doubtful.  His  youth, 
a  good  constitution,  and  a  patient  firmness,  at  length 
by  slow  degrees  overcame  his  extreme  debility,  and  in 
due  time  he  was  able  to  walk  abroad.  Conscious,  how- 
ever, that  the  lingering  debility  which  not  only  weigh- 
ed his  body  but  his  spirit  to  the  earth,  would  for  some 
time  incapacitate  him  for  active  service,  he  asked  and 
obtained  leave  of  absence  and  returned  home,  where 
he  found  everything  precisely  in  the  same  place  he  had 
left  it,  and  Gilbert  just  about  setting  out  the  dinner 
table,  as  usual.  The  good  old  man  was  so  surprised 
at  seeing  him,  that  he  dropt  a  bundle  of  spoons  he  car- 
ried in  his  hand,  which  so  discomfited  him  that  he  for- 
got to  welcome  his  young  master,  till  he  had  carefully 
picked  them  up  again. 

Harold  returned  to  Habingdon  an  altered  man. 
During  the  period  of  his  service  his  religious  and 
political  opinions  had  settled  down  on  the  platform  of 
the  most  rigid  of  the  sect  of  the  Puritans.  He  had 
fought  and  bled  for  them,  and  they  had  become  more 
precious  for  the  price.  The  habit  of  fighting  against 
his  king,  had  quite  effaced  all  reverence  for  his  autho- 
rity ;  and  the  example  of  those  with  whom  he  had 
daily  associated  in  danger  and  death,  gradually  made 
him  a  thorough  convert,  not  only  to  their  opinions,  but 
their  manners  and  habits.  He  had  become  a  Round- 
head and  republican.  His  deportment  was  character- 


90  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

ized  by  a  sour  austerity,  which  scorned  all  appearance 
of  gaiety,  and  seldom  relaxed  into  a  smile.  A  secret 
feeling  of  superiority  over  those  he  chose  to  call  the 
wicked,  at  war  with  Christian  humility,  had  gradually 
insinuated  itself  into  his  heart,  and  generated  that 
spiritual  pride  so  utterly  unworthy  the  spirit  of  Chris- 
tianity and  its  author.  So  far  as  respected  his  princi- 
ples and  conduct,  he  was  a  man  of  the  strictest  inte- 
grity ;  but  he  had  ceased  to  be  amiable,  and  though 
gifted  with  qualities  that  might  gain  respect,  could 
scarcely  hope  to  be  loved  by  those  around  him. 

It  was  long  ere  he  thoroughly  recovered;  and  during 
the  period  of  his  convalescence  the  Royal  cause  was 
ruined,  and  the  King  in  the  hands  of  his  enemies. 
His  party  ceased  to  make  head  in  the  field,  and  it  was 
not  long  before  the  errors  and  weaknesses,  which  would 
have  been  more  venial  had  they  not  been  those  of  a 
sovereign,  were  atoned  by  a  death  inflicted  by  The 
Judges  of  Kings,  who  taught  him  by  sad  experience, 
that  monarchs  are  not  alone  accountable  to  heaven  for 
their  actions,  but  that  there  is  a  High  Tribunal  on 
earth  to  which  they  may  be  brought  for  judgment. 
Hitherto  kings  had  paid  the  forfeit  of  their  crimes 
against  the  people,  by  becoming  the  victims  of  conspi- 
racy, assassination,  and  war ;  but  now  for  the  first 
time  did  a  sovereign  fall  by  the  axe  of  the  executioner, 
according  to  the  forms,  at  least,  of  law  and  justice. 
It  was  a  memorable  example,  and,  say  what  we  will, 
a  sublime  spectacle,  to  see  a  monarch  atoning  for  his 
offences  against  his  people,  like  one  of  the  people.  The 


TIIF,    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  91 

punishment  may  have  been  illegal,  but  who  shall  say  it 
was  not  just. 

Harold  had  left  the  service,  sometime  previous  to 
the  death  of  the  King,  in  consequence  of  his  regiment 
being  disbanded,  and  remained  at  home,  a  quiet  though 
deeply  interested  observer  of  those  succeeding  strug- 
gles and  intrigues,  by  which  unprincipled,  ambitious 
men  at  length  justly  forfeited  that  freedom  it  had  cost 
so  much  blood  to  acquire.  They  had  united  in  achiev- 
ing victory,  but  quarreled  about  the  division  of  the 
spoils ;  or  to  do  them  justice,  perhaps  it  may  have 
been  that  a  difference  of  opinion  as  to  the  adoption  of 
a  new  system  of  government  was  one  great  cause  of 
those  divisions  which  were  now  approaching  a  crisis. 
But  Harold  had  another  subject  which  approached 
nearer  his  heart.  He  had  not  forgotten  Susan  Banes- 
wright ;  and  his  deep-rooted  affection  for  that  orphan 
girl  was  only  more  quickened  by  the  recollection  that 
she  was  now  without  a  father  or  protector.  He  sought 
her,  and  instituted  inquiries  in  all  directions  that  af- 
forded the  least  hope  of  success,  but  could  gain  no 
clue  to  guide  him  in  his  further  search,  and  finally  sat 
down  in  despair  of  ever  seeing  her  again.  This  dis- 
appointment of  the  dearest  of  his  earthly  hopes  only 
increased  the  gloomy  severity  of  his  devotion,  for  re- 
ligion and  love  are  in  some  degree  antidotes  to  each 
other,  and  the  disappointments  of  the  heart  often  seek 
consolation  in  devotion. 

While  in  this  state  of  mind,  circumstances  not  ma- 
terial to  our  story  called  him  to  a  distant  part  of  the 


92  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

country  not  far  from  the  borders  of  Wales.  It  was 
midsummer,  the  weather  soft  and  balmy,  and  the 
landscape  everywhere  displayed  that  rich  redundancy 
of  green  pasture  for  which  old  England  is  so  renowned. 
One  evening  towards  sunset,  as  he  rode  along,  buried 
in  contemplations  in  which  the  past  predominated  over 
the  present  and  future,  he  was  roused  from  his  reverie 
by  the  sudden  darkness  which  came  upon  him,  occa- 
sionally illuminated  by  flashes  of  lightning,  followed 
by  quick  crashes  of  thunder.  At  once  the  present  re- 
sumed its  empire,  and,  as  often  happens  in  this  world 
of  sudden  changes,  the  pains  of  memory  were  banish- 
ed by  the  prospect  of  an  approaching  shower.  The 
anticipation  of  a  wet  jacket  is  a  sovereign  remedy  for 
sentimental  regrets.  It  has  a  marvellous  cooling  in- 
fluence on  the  fever  of  the  spirits  and  acts  as  a  shower- 
bath  on  the  heated  brain.  Powerful  as  is  the  influence 
of  memory  and  imagination,  reality  is  stronger  than 
either  or  both  combined ;  and  notwithstanding  all  that 
may  have  been  said  or  sung  of  mental  sorrows,  they 
fade  away  like  spectres  before  the  stern  realities 
of  physical  suffering.  The  Patriarch  Job  bore  the 
loss  of  his  cattle,  his  houses,  and  his  children  without 
a  murmur ;  but  when  his  body  was  covered  with  boils, 
and  he  writhed  in  the  agonies  of  pain,  he  groaned 
aloud,  and  his  patience  was  conquered. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  Harold  pricked  on  his  weary 
steed  in  hope  of  gaining  some  friendly  shelter  in  cot- 
tage, barn,  or  outhouse.  But  the  storm  proved  too 
swift  in  the  race,  and  he  was  overtaken  by  a  pelting 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  93 

rain  opposite  a  rustic  temple  of  learning,  the  small  fry 
of  which  had  just  been  dismissed  for  the  day,  and 
scampered  home,  anxious  to  escape  a  ducking.  This 
being  the  only  place  of  shelter  in  sight,  he  forthwith 
rode  up  to  it,  and  fastening  his  horse  to  a  post,  opened 
the  door,  through  which  he  bolted  without  knocking ; 
your  pelting  shower  being  a  great  enemy  to  ceremony. 
The  first  object  that  caught  his  attention  was  a  fe- 
male, who  seemed  somewhat  alarmed  at  his  intrusion, 
for  she  trembled  violently,  and  her  face  was  very  pale. 
A  second  glance,  followed  by  a  fixed  gaze  of  intense 
interest,  disclosed  to  Harold  the  object  which  had  so 
long  occupied  his  thoughts,  and  influenced  his  actions. 
It  was  Susan  Baneswright,  who  at  once  recognising 
him,  after  a  slight  hesitation  came  forward,  addressed 
him  by  name,  and  offered  her  hand,  with  a  pensive 
smile  of  chastened  welcome.  Years  had  passed  away 
since  they  parted,  yet  in  gazing  on  her  he  could  see 
little  change  in  her  face  or  person.  The  attractive 
power  of  her  face  depended  not  on  color  but  expres- 
sion ;  and  the  placid  firmness  of  her  mind,  as  well  as 
the  gentleness  of  her  temper,  had  preserved  her  in  the 
midst  of  great  trials  from  those  violent  emotions  of 
passion  which  undermine  the  constitution,  and  perhaps 
more  than  any  other  cause,  contribute  to  shorten  as 
well  as  embitter  the  brief  period  of  existence  allotted 
to  men.  Her  face  still  wore  that  sweet  expression  of 
submissive  melancholy,  which  had  from  the  first  irre- 
sistibly called  forth  his  sympathy ;  while  her  person, 
clothed  in  the  simplest  fashion  and  most  homely  tex- 


94  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

ture,  was  yet  graceful  from  its  natural  proportions,  as 
well  as  attractive  from  the  absence  of  all  affectation. 

It  will  be  recollected  that  Harold  had  never  disclosed 
his  attachment  in  words,  except  to  her  father,  who 
she  had  neither  seen  nor  heard  from  since  the  inter- 
view heretofore  recorded  ;  and  if  she  had  become  con- 
scious of  his  feelings,  it  was  doubtless  through  the 
medium  of  that  mysterious  sympathy  said  to  consti- 
tute a  sort  of  magnetic  telegraph,  but  which  after  all 
is  perhaps  nothing  more  than  the  dumb  eloquence  of 
the  eyes.  The  meeting,  therefore,  was  not  that  of 
mutual  lovers,  but  long  separated  friends.  Though 
friendly,  perhaps  cordial,  it  was  accompanied  by  that 
sober,  staid  formality  peculiar  to  the  sect  to  which 
they  belonged  ;  and  not  a  word  passed  that  could  be 
translated  into  the  language  of  love.  We  will  not  say 
as  much  of  their  looks,  or  that  the  eye  did  not  make 
ample  amends  for  the  delinquency  of  the  tongue. 

After  mutual  greetings,  the  storm  being  passed 
away  as  suddenly  as  it  came,  Harold  leading  his  horse 
by  the  bridle,  accompanied  Susan  to  her  abode  in  a 
small  hamlet,  which  though  close  at  hand,  was  hid  by 
a  green  wooded  hill  that  soared  above  the  rustic  chim- 
neys. She  resided  with  an  elderly  widowed  dame, 
whose  husband  had  died  fighting  against  his  king,  and 
who  was  of  the  strictest  sect  of  the  Puritans.  The 
pious  widow  received  Harold  somewhat  ungraciously  ; 
but  being  apprised  by  Susan  that  he  was  an  old  friend 
of  her  father,  and  of  course  of  the  right  stamp,  she 
abated  somewhat  of  her  acidity,  and  accorded  him  her 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  95 

blessing.  "While  busily  occupied  with  her  household 
affairs,  the  which  she  accompanied  occasionally  with  a 
hymn  of  more  piety  than  poetry,  Harold  and  Susan 
being  left  to  themselves  entered  into  mutual  details 
of  their  past  history. 

Harold  related  the  principal  incidents  of  his  life 
since  they  parted,  omitting  the  scene  after  the  battle 
of  Naseby,  as  well  as  the  particulars  of  Israel's  visit, 
and  dwelling  slightly  on  his  anxious  search  for  Susan. 
The  narrative  of  Susan  was  one  of  grief  and  suffering. 
On  leaving  the  prison  they  had  continued  to  lead  a  sort 
of  itinerant  life.  Israel  exhorted  the  people  to  rise  in 
their  might  and  smite  the  Philistines,  until  at  length 
excited  beyond  all  restraint  by  continually  hearing  of 
the  vicissitudes  of  the  conflict,  now  at  its  height,  he 
girded  on  his  sword,  and  proceeded  to  join  the  army 
of  Cromwell,  who  he  considered  the  chiefest  of  the 
saints.  Here  he  exhorted  and  fought  with  equal  en- 
thusiasm, until  he  met  his  death  on  the  famous  field 
of  Naseby,  while  hotly  pursuing  a  flying  squadron  of 
loyalists,  and  exhorting  his  companions  to  scatter  the 
armies  of  Grog  and  Magog  like  chaff  before  the  winds. 
But  of  this  catastrophe  Susan  knew  nothing  certain, 
though  accustomed  to  consider  him  as  dead.  Not  long 
after  the  departure  of  Israel,  his  wife,  worn  out  by  the 
hardships  and  exposures  she  had  encountered  as  well 
from  duty  and  affection  to  her  helpmate  as  from  pious 
conviction,  gradually  declined  in  her  health,  and  sunk 
into  the  grave,  leaving  Susan  without  a  protector,  save 
the  good  woman  in  whose  house  she  now  resided.  Not 


96  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

to  be  a  burden  to  her,  she  had  managed  to  gather  to- 
gether a  little  school,  from  which  she  derived  a  homely 
support,  which  sufficed  for  all  her  wants.  When  her 
story  was  finished,  she  anxiously  inquired  of  Harold 
if  he  could  give  her  any  information  concerning  the 
fate  of  her  father. 

Without  entering  into  minute  particulars,  he  com- 
municated the  death  of  Israel  on  the  field  of  Naseby 
and  the  information  was  received  with  humble  resig- 
nation, as  only  confirming  what  she  had  long  believed. 
After  a  pause  devoted  to  filial  piety  and  love,  she  ad- 
dressed Harold  with  mingled  sorrow  and  resignation. 

"  The  will  of  Heaven  be  done.  I  have  long  be- 
lieved myself  without  a  parent,  without  a  home,  and 
without  a  friend,  save  him  who  has  promised  to  pro- 
tect those  who  have  no  other  protector.  My  dear  mo- 
ther breathed  her  last  in  my  arms;  I  saw  her  die,  and 
her  last  words  were  spoken  to  me.  Of  my  father's 
fate,  though  well  assured  something  serious  had  be- 
fallen him,  I  was  ignorant  till  now,  and  the  certainty, 
fearful  as  it  may  be,  is  less  painful  than  uncertainty 
without  hope.  There  is  one  thing  yet  left  me.  I  have 
still  duties  to  perform,  and  it  is  a  blessed  dispensation 
that  the  indigent,  in  administering  to  the  wants  of 
others,  provide  for  their  own." 

The  heart  of  Harold  swelled  with  overwhelming 
emotion  at  this  affecting  lesson  of  philosophic  piety. 
A  flood  of  tenderness  rushed  to  his  heart,  and  he  could 
no  longer  restrain  his  emotions. 

"  Susan,"  he  exclaimed — "  Dear  Susan,  do  not  say 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER  97 

you  are  alone  in  the  world  without  a  home  or  a  friend, 
when  one  such  stands  before  you  to  whom  you  are 
dear  as  the  apple  of  his  eye,  the  breath  of  his  life — I 
might  almost  say,  the  welfare  of  his  soul — " 

"  Forbear,  Harold" — interrupted  Susan — "  forbear, 
Harold  Habingdon.  Place  not  thine  immortal  part 
in  comparison  with  thy  mortal  affections.  Thy  heart 
thou  mayest  give  away ;  thy  soul  belongs  to  (rod." 

"  Nay,  hear  me,  Susan.  From  the  moment  I  ex- 
changed that  last  look  at  the  prison  door,  my  thoughts 
have  dwelt  on  thee  by  day  and  by  night,'  in  sickness 
and  health,  in  the  calm  hour  of  contemplation,  and  in 
the  hurry  of  battle.  In  the  jail  when  forsaken  and 
perishing  with  hunger,  hopeless  of  relief,  and  often 
wandering  from  myself,  so  long  as  my  mind  retained 
its  consciousness,  I  thought  of  thee.  And  when  I  lay 
gasping  on  the  field  of  blood,  with  nothing  but  woe 
and  death  around  me,  still  I  thought  of  thee — " 

"  Forbear,  Harold — forbear.  This  is  no 'time  to  talk 
on  such  a  subject.  It.  becomes  me  now  to  mourn 
the  breaking  of  former  ties,  rather  than  think  of  new 
ones." 

"  Forgive  me,  Susan — we  have  met  by  accident,  and 
accident  may  soon  part  us.  Let  me  tell  thee  all,  and 
then  answer  truly,  as  thy  heart  may  dictate.  When 
after  retiring  from  the  army,  I  recovered  from  my 
wound,  I  sought  thee  wherever  I  thought  it  probable 
thou  mightest  be  found,  nor  did  I  rest  until  all  hope 
of  finding  thee  was  gone.  We  have  at  length  met, 
and  chance  has  done  for  me  what  mv  own  exertions 


98  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

couid  not  accomplish.  Let  us  never,  I  beseech  thee, 
part  again.  Like  thee,  I  stand  alone  in  the  world.  I 
am  the  last  of  my  race,  with  none  to  share  my 
thoughts,  or  control  my  actions  ;  and  thou,  dearest 
Susan,  thou  art  a  stricken  deer,  alone  in  a  forest,  with- 
out a  protector.  I  offer  you  a  refuge  and  a  home  ;  I 
offer  you  a  heart  devoted  to  your  happiness  and  I  ex- 
pect a  decisive  answer.  Speak  to  me,  my  beloved — 
answer  me,  are  we  never  to  part,  or  never  to  meet 
again  ?" 

For  the  first  time  since  he  had  known  her,  the 
steady,  well-poised  mind  of  Susan  seemed  shaken  to  its 
base.  During  this  address  she  became  greatly  agitat- 
ed by  a  struggle  which  relieved  itself  neither  by  tears 
or  words.  At  length  recovering  in  some  degree,  she 
raised  her  eyes  to  his,  and  perceiving  the  eager  expec- 
tation with  which  he  awaited  a  reply  meekly  said — 

"  What  can  I  bring  as  my  dower  but  poverty  and 
misfortune.  My  inheritance,  alas !  is  disappointed 
hopes,  and  sorrowful  recollections. 

"  What  canst  thou  bring  me"— cried  Harold,  the 
deep-buried  enthusiasm  and  energy  of  his  character 
bursting  forth  like  a  torrent  long  pent  up — "  Thou 
canst  bring  me  the  most  precious  of  all  earthly  dow- 
ers, a  gentle,  pious,  virtuous  wife,  in  whom  I  may 
•  trust  with  the  faith  of  a  martyr.  Thou  canst  bring 
me  peace,  content,  joy,  and  felicity.  Thou  canst  make 
my  house  the  abode  of  happiness,  and  its  master  the 
most  blessed  of  men.  Talk  not  then  of  poverty  and 
misfortune — I  have  enough  to  ward  off  one,  and  my 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  99 

watchful  care  will,  with  the  blessing  of  Heaven, 
shield  thee  from  the  other.  Answer  me,  Susan,  wilt 
thou  be  mine — wilt  thou  entrust  thy  happiness  to  me 
for  this  life  ?  One  word — and  give  thy  hand  as  a 
token." 

"  I  will" — whispered  the  maiden,  and  gave  him  her 
hand.  At  that  moment  love  triumphed  over  the 
self-denying  ordinances  of  the  sect ;  he  pressed  her  to 
his  bosom  ;  he  kissed  her  with  all  the  ardor  of  long 
continued  abstinence  suddenly  bidden  to  a  plenteous 
feast,  while  Susan,  doubtless  taken  by  surprise,  quietly 
submitted  to  the  inexorable  canons  of  nature.  The 
contract  being  thus  sealed,  Harold  related  to  her  the 
occasion  of  his  journey,  and  besought  Susan  to  become 
his  bride  on  his  return,  which  would  be  in  a  few  days. 
But  here  her  unconquerable  sense  of  duty  presented 
an  insurmountable  obstacle.  She  had  engaged  herself 
as  a  teacher  during  a  period  of  which  more  than  a 
month  remained,  and  steadily  refused  to  break  her 
engagement,  though  he  eagerly  offered  to  compound 
with  the  villagers. 

"  No,  Harold,"  said  she,  "  I  will  not  violate  one  en- 
gagement, however  unimportant,  while  about  to  enter 
into  another  so  solemn  and  lasting" — adding,  with  the 
first  happy  smile  he  had  ever  seen  light  up  her  pensive 
brow,  and  which  made  her  look  almost  beautiful — "  I 
fear  thou  wilt  not  trust  me  hereafter  as  a  wife,  if  I 
prove  faithless  to  these  little  children." 

Harold  respected  her  scruples,  and  after  appointing 
the  day  on  which  he  was  to  return  and  claim  his  bride, 


100  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

bade  Susan  a  farewell,  which  caused  her  cheek  to  wax 
almost  as  red  as  her  lips.  As  he  left  the  house  he 
heard  the  good  mistress  of  the  mansion  chaunting  with 
awful  nasal  twang,  the  following  lines,  that  seemed 
ominous. 

"  Why  should  vain  mortals  hope  for  bliss, 
In  such  a  wicked  world  as  this, 
Where  Satan  goes  about  in  wrath, 
And  sin  lurks  in  each  pilgrim's  path." 


CHAPTER    V. 

Metaphysical  Subtilties— Anticipation  and  Reality— Obstinacy  and 
Principle — Some  Morsels  of  Wisdom  Crammed  down  the  Reader's 
Throat  in  Spite  of  His  Wry  Faces — A  Prophecy — An  Orthodox 
Serving  Man — Disgust  of  Harold  at  the  Profligacy  of  the  Cavaliers 
— Meditates  a  Decisive  Movement,  and  Does  a  very  Foolish  Thing — 
A  Complaisant  Helpmate — Eulogium  on  the  New  World — A  Voyage 
in  Search  of  the  Philosopher's  Stone,  to  wit,  Happiness. 

THE  journey  of  Harold  was  agreeably  solaced  by  the 
recollection  of  certain  passages  at  arms  that  had,  as 
hinted  at  in  the  preceding  chapter,  taken  place  be- 
tween himself  and  Susan,  as  well  as  by  the  anticipa- 
tion of  their  speedy  renewal,  with  additions  and  im- 
provements. They  say  still  water  runs  deepest,  and 
there  is  another  venerable  proverb,  to  a  like  purpose, 
not  quite  genteel  enough  for  the  verbal  squeamishness 
of  the  present  age,  which,  with  due  deference  be  it 
spoken,  swallows  down  whole  mouthfuls  of  abomina- 
tions disguised  in  the  delicate  embroidery  of  exquisitely 
harmless  words,  and  while  it  strains  at  a  gnat,  reli- 
giously swallows  a  camel.  Be  this  as  it  may  ;  an  old 
friend,  to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  all  the  wisdom 
expended  in  this  work,  assures  us  it  is  a  fact  verified 
by  his  own  experience,  that  the  melting  of  the  ice  in 


102  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

the  heart  of  a  staid,  sober,  abstemious  gentleman  is 
invariably  succeeded  by  a  terrible  overflowing  of  the 
long  imprisoned  waters,  which  like  an  autumnal 
freshet,  carries  all  before  it,  tearing  up  the  ground 
into  the  bargain. 

It  is  not  therefore  wise,  he  says,  to  turn  our  backs 
in  sour  disdain  on  the  good  things  spread  out  before 
us  by  the  bounty  of  Providence ;  to  consider  them,  not 
as  benefactions  to  be  partaken  of  in  sober  moderation, 
but  as  temptations  purposely  laid  in  our  way  as  prac- 
tical lessons  of  self-denial.  Those  enjoyments  which 
neither  injure  ourselves,  interfere  with  the  happiness 
of  others,  or  violate  the  laws  and  decorums  of  society, 
are  in  fact  in  themselves  most  effectual  barriers  against 
the  indulgence  of  those  criminal  propensities  which  at 
one  and  the  same  time  undermine  our  own  happiness 
and  destroy  that  of  others.  Grive  to  mankind  innocent 
amusements,  and  they  will  be  far  less  likely  to  seek 
for  guilty  pleasures.  But  it  will  generally  be  found 
that  those  who  whet  their  appetites,  by  rigorously  ab- 
staining from  one  enjoyment,  are  the  most  voracious 
in  the  gratification  of  others;  and  that  he  who  rails 
most  loudlv  at  the  ninety-nine  innocent  pleasures  of 
life  most  commonly  selects  the  hundredth,  as  an  ex- 
ception, and  converts  it  into  a  vice,  by  excessive  in- 
dulgence. These  remarks,  continues  the  prosing  old 
gentleman,  apply  to  all  ages,  but  most  especially  to 
that  gay  and  joyous  season  when  free  from  the  cares 
of  manhood,  and  the  infirmities  of  age,  the  youthful 
spirit  seems  fairly  entitled  to  nature's  vernal  holiday. 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  103 

Those  who  view  with  impatient  spleen  their  merry 
gambols,  or  listen  with  sour  disdain  to  the  jocund 
laugh,  that  springs  from  all  absence  from  care,  as  well 
as  freedom  from  pain,  might  as  well  find  fault  with 
the  spring  for  producing  nothing  but  blossoms.  But 
to  resume  our  tale. 

Harold  certainly  verified  the  old  gentleman's  theory, 
for  he  was  in  a  tumult  of  hopes  and  anticipations,  un- 
worthy a  person  who  had  so  long  valued  himself  on  his 
contempt  for  sublunary  enjoyments.  The  ice  had  sud- 
denly melted;  his  ardent  soul  which  had  been  ere 
while  occupied  in  curbing  the  steed,  now  relaxed  the 
bridle,  or  rather  dropped  it  entirely,  and  made  itself  full 
amends  for  the  past  by  anticipations  of  the  future. 
The  sturdy  Puritan  actually  took  to  castle  building, 
and  had  his  horse  been  as  much  in  love  as  himself,  it 
is  extremely  questionable  whether  on  his  return  homo, 
he  would  not  have  been  lost  in  the  Fens  of  Lincoln- 
shire. But  owing  to  the  sagacity  of  the  discreet  ani- 
mal, he  arrived  in  safety,  but  not  until  after  missing 
his  way  occasionally  when  he  came  to  a  cross-road. 
Here  with  the  aid  of  old  Gilbert,  he  set  about  putting 
his  household  in  order  for  the  reception  of  its  new 
mistress,  during  which  it  was  an  observation  of  Gil- 
bert, that  his  young  master  neither  sung  psalms,  or 
prayed  as  often  as  usual,  and  twice  missed  a  conven- 
ticle. 

Time  always  limps,  when  driven  too  fast.  He  has 
something  of  the  donkey,  and  if  you  attempt  to  prick 
him  beyond  his  usual  speed,  will  but  out  his  forefeet, 


104  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

make  a  dead  stand,  and  bray  most  vociferously.  It 
was  thus  with  Harold,  who  was  out  of  all  patience, 
and  put  Gilbert  almost  out  of  his  wits,  by  hurrying 
the  dinner  every  day,  as  if  that  would  hasten  the 
march  of  time.  "  Gilbert,"  said  he  one  day,  "  what 
day  of  the  week  is  it?"  Gilbert  considered  the  matter 
maturely  and  answered,  "Friday,  sir."  "  'Slife,  I 
thought  it  was  Saturday,"  said  Harold,  turning  away 
impatiently,  to  the  infinite  astonishment  of  G-ilbert, 
who  had  never  heard  his  young  master  come  so  nigh 
swearing  before. 

But  time  is  withal  a  sure-footed  steed,  and  never 
fails  to  reach  the  end  of  his  journey  at  last.  The 
fated  hour  arrived,  and  Harold,  dressed  in  a  new  suit, 
that  actually  smacked  a  little  of  the  cavalier,  departed 
on  his  mission,  from  which  he  in  due  time  returned 
with  his  wife.  Without  entering  into  minute  details, 
which  however  are  a  great  help  to  an  author  in  time 
of  sore  distress,  when  the  catastrophe  of  his  story 
threatens  to  pounce  upon  him,  long  before  his  two 
volumes  are  completed — we  shall  be  content  with 
observing  that  for  the  usual  period  which  it  is  said  is 
governed  by  the  moon — he  enjoyed  as  much  happiness 
as  is  good  for  mankind.  But  whether  it  be  that  there 
is  that  in  the  institution  of  matrimony,  which  like  a 
magnifying  glass  causes  the  merest  trifles  to  appear 
important,  or  that  the  parties  are  drawn  into  such 
intimate  communion  that  they  cannot  conceal,  or  be 
blind  to  the  faults  or  foibles  of  each  other,  or  that 
familiarity  produces  the  result  which  has  become  pro- 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  105 

verbial,  certain  it  is,  that  after  the  expiration  of  that 
period  so  hallowed  in  the  annals  of  wedded  life,  Harold 
and  Susan  were  not  quite  so  happy  as  they  had  anti- 
cipated. 

All  men,  says  our  wise  old  friend,  and  as  is  affirmed 
by  scandalous  persons,  all  women  have  a  way  of  their 
own,  and  like  to  have  their  own  way.  Now  there  is 
an  infinite  variety  of  nothings  in  domestic  life,  which 
though  in  themselves  of  no  consequence,  constitute  the 
most  fruitful  source  of  trifling  disagreements  and  con- 
tradictions that  too  often  in  the  end  produce  coolness, 
if  not  alienation.  We  have  somewhere  heard  of  a 
couple  of  the  fondest,  best  tempered  people  in  the 
world,  who  unfortunately,  one  day,  in  the  middle  of  a 
long,  gloomy,  drizzly  week  in  November,  during  which 
the  sun  suffered  a  total  eclipse,  fell  into  an  argument 
on  the  question  whether  people  have  ten  fingers,  or 
only  eight  fingers  and  two  thumbs.  They  parted  with- 
out settling  the  question,  and  the  next  day  it  was  re- 
newed with  additional  vivacity.  The  habit  grew  upon 
them,  and  each  party  waxed  more  warm  as  well  as 
obstinate.  They  began  to  complain  bitterly  of  the 
peevishness  of  each  other,  and  finally  agreed  to  a 
separation  on  the  ground  of  incompatibility  of  temper. 
Were  it  possible  to  penetrate  the  deep  mysteries  of  wed- 
lock, it  would  probably  be  found  that  in  a  vast  many, 
perhaps  a  majority  of  cases,  matrimonial  dissentions 
arise  from  a  difference  of  opinion  on  matters  of  not  the 
least  consequence  and  to  which  the  parties  are  totally 
indifferent. 

9* 


106  THE    PURITAN    AND    UTS    DAUGHTER. 

Harold  was  a  man  of  principle.  He  did  everything 
on  principle,  and  often  applied  his  principles  to  things 
that  involved  no  principle  whatever.  Susan,  too,  was 
governed  by  principle ;  she  was  obstinately  good, 
though  to  do  her  justice,  it  was  only  passive  obstinacy } 
that  of  non-resistance.  No  earthly  motive  could  tempt 
her  to  do  wrong,  or  act  against  her  settled  conviction. 
It  would  have  been  better  for  both,  had  they  confined 
their  adherence  to  principle  to  those  acts  which  involve 
the  obligations  of  duty  to  ourselves  and  others  ;  but 
they  went  much  farther,  and  when  there  was  neither 
right  or  wrong  in  the  case,  strictly  adhered  to  principle. 
Yet  with  all  this,  Susan  possessed  a  temper  of  the 
sweetest  complacency,  and  never  on  any  occasion 
contended  with  her  husband.  When,  as  sometimes 
happened,  Harold  found  fault  with  her,  she  would  only 
ply  her  needle  with  greater  rapidity,  and  exclaim — "  My 
dear,  I  don't  hear — I  don't  hear." 

That  perseverance,  our  old  friend  continues,  nay,  ob- 
stinacy in  doing  right  is  a  noble  characteristic  in  man 
or  woman  cannot  be  denied  ;  and  yet  it  requires  to  be 
kept  within  certain  bounds,  or  it  may  chance  to  de- 
generate into  obstinacy  in  doing  wrong.  Nothing  is 
more  common  than  to  mistake  prejudice  for  principle, 
or  the  suggestions  of  passion  for  the  dictates  of  reason. 
The  desire  of  having  our  own  way,  the  mere  indul- 
gence of  the  will  is  often  the  substitute  for  a  convic- 
tion of  right,  and  in  many,  very  many  cases  what  is 
called  acting  on  principle,  is  only  an  excuse  for  a  de- 
termination to  do  as  we  please.  Even  conscience  is 


Till:    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  107 

not  always  an  infallible  guide,  else  we  had  not  so 
often  seen  whole  nations  forgetting  the  obligations  of 
humanity,  charity  and  justice,  and  exterminating  each 
other  for  a  mere  difference  of  opinion.  It  is  however 
the  best  we  have  ;  and  though  partaking  in  the  com- 
mon weakness  of  our  nature,  should  be  handled  with 
gloves,  least  from  a  sleeping  lamb  it  becomes  a  raging 
tiger. 

There  are  a  vast  many  occasions,  most  especially  in 
the  daily  intercourse  of  domestic  life,  in  which  it  is 
not  worth  while  to  be  obstinate,  and  where  opposition 
is  oftener  the  result  of  wilfulness  than  reason.  It  is 
in  yielding  to  others,  in  such  small  affairs,  that  what 
is  called  good  nature  consists.  This  is  the  honey  that 
sweetens  the  cup  of  human  life ;  the  great  cement  of 
our  social  relations,  which  consists  as  much  in  mutual 
forbearance,  as  in  mutual  good  offices.  A  married  pair 
should  equally  keep  clear  of  the  two  extremes,  of  ab- 
solute independence,  and  grovelling  submission.  Most 
especially  should  they  avoid  all  argument,  which  is 
only  another  name  for  contention.  The  wise  old  gen- 
tleman from  whom  we  have  again  quoted,  is  clearly  of 
this  opinion,  and  earnestly  recommends  the  example 
of  a  friend  of  his,  who  whenever  his  wife  expresses 
dissent  to  any  opinion,  or  proposition,  invariably 
replies,  "well,  my  dear,  then  there  is  an  end  to  the 
argument," — takes  up  his  hat,  and  quietly  goes  about 
his  business. 

The  same  old  gentleman  begs  to  caution  our  readers 
against  a  fundamental  error  of  a  certain  married  couple, 


108  THF.    rriilTAX    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

with  whom  he  was  on  terms  of  intimacy,  whoso 
domestic  harmony  was  grievously  undermined,  by  a 
habit  of  contending,  not  which  should  have  his,  or  her 
way,  hut  which  should  concede  it  to  the  other.  This 
produced  very  serious  conflicts,  which  generally  ended 
in  the  husband  exclaiming,  "  Zounds,  madam,  do  you 
think  to  always  have  your  own  way  ?  I  desire  you  to 
understand  that  I  too  have  a  will  of  my  own."  The 
old  gentleman,  however,  observes,  that  this  is  rather 
an  uncommon  case,  and  constitutes  an  exception.  He 
further  remarks,  that  argument  between  the  rival 
domestic  powers,  is  most  especially  dangerous,  where 
both  parties  agree  ;  and  affirms  he  has  seen  two  people 
exceedingly  discomposed,  at  finding  after  a  long  and 
warm  discussion,  there  was  in  fact  no  difference  of 
opinion. 

The  gentle  and  impatient  reader  will  pardon  us,  if 
we  occasionally  indulge  in  a  little  wholesome  digres- 
sion, though  in  opposition  to  certain  critics,  who  lay  it 
down  as  one  of  the  orthodox  canons  of  criticism,  that  a 
story  is  like  a  top,  which  breaks  down  the  moment  it 
stands  still.  The  author,  they  affirm,  should  be  con- 
stantly whipping  his  top,  to  prevent  this  catastrophe, 
and  the  more  it  hums  the  better  for  both  himself  and 
his  reader.  Like  old  Virginia,  he  must  never  tire,  nor 
linger  on  his  way,  to  pluck  a  flower,  or  sketch  some 
lovely  scene  of  nature  that  wooes  him  as  he  passes 
along.  "  Sentiment,  sir," — ordained  one  of  these  infal- 
lible doctors — "  sentiment  is  impertinent,  and  morality 
out  of  place  in  a  story.  It  is  as  bad  as  mint  sauce  to 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  109 

venison,  or  stuffing  to  a  canvas- back  duck.  It  is  out 
of  place,  sir — it  interrupts  the  progress  of  the  story, 
which  should  be  all  action,  passion,  adventure,  blood, 
murder,  fire,  fury,  fretting,  fuming,  and  phrenzy 
This  is  what  I  call  power  ;  it  is  the  steam  that  gives 
motion  to  the  engine,  and  sets  the  author  and  his  reader 
going  at  the  rate  of  thirty  miles  an  hour.  The  most 
racy  book  I  ever  read  was  an  abridgement  of  the  Ro- 
mances of  Mrs.  Radcliffe  and  some  others,  in  which  all 
the  connecting  links  were  left  out,  and  nothing  retain- 
ed but  the  incidents." 

We  agree  perfectly  with  our  thunderbolt  of  a  critic, 
but  shall  not  follow  his  precepts.  We  don't  see  why 
an  author  has  not  as  good  a  right  to  please  himself,  as 
his  readers  have  to  be  pleased.  The  latter  buy  his 
book  at  their  peril,  and  if  it  should  chance  not  to  please 
them,  they  can  take  the  worth  of  their  money  in 
abusing  him  soundly.  This  is  what  statesmen  call  re- 
ciprocity. Now  we  confess,  that  though  in  the  down- 
hill of  life,  and  much  nearer  the  bottom  than  the  top, 
we  like  to  roam  about  a  little  out  of  the  direct  course 
of  narrative,  even  if  we  pluck  only  weeds  in  our  way, 
and  have  a  decided  antipathy  to  authors  who  cannot 
be  dull  whenever  they  please,  The  only  legitimate 
excuse  for  publishing  a  book  is,  that  the  writer  either 
is,  or  fancies  himself,  wiser  than  ail  the  rest  of  the 
world  put  together.  He  should,  therefore,  take  the  bit 
between  his  teeth  at  the  first  start,  and  follow  his  own 
way,  regardless  of  his  riders,  the  critics.  If  they 
should  chance  to  pelt  him  with  old  shoes,  or  hiss  him 


1  10  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTF.R. 

as  he  passes,  he  has  an  infallible  resource  in  the  judg- 
ment of  posterity.  Let  him  appeal  to  the  great  court 
of  chancery,  whose  function  it  is  to  reprieve  an  author 
after  he  has  been  hanged,  drawn,  and  quartered.  But 
although  the  preceding  speculations  may  seem  a  wan- 
ton digression,  the  judicious  reader  will,  if  we  are  not 
mistaken,  detect  their  bearing  on  the  sequel  of  our 
narrative. 

Years  passed  away,  and  notwithstanding  the  little 
breezes  that  ruffled  the  surface  of  the  stream  of  life 
and  shook  the  verdant  leaves,  without  causing  them 
to  fall,  Harold  and  Susan  continued  to  enjoy  them- 
selves in  comparative  peace.  The  only  events  of  con- 
sequence that  happened  during  this  period,  were  the 
birth  of  a  daughter,  which  shook  the  leaves  a  little 
when  about  to  give  her  a  name,  and  the  death  of 
honest  Gilbert  Taverner,  who  had  never  held  up  his 
venerable  head  since  the  luckless  day  when  his  mis- 
tress commanded  him  to  change  the  disposition  of  the 
salt-cellars  at  dinner.  The  first  time  he  did  this,  his 
hand  trembled  so  that  he  spilled  the  entire  contents 
of  one,  and  was  so  agitated,  that  though  the  salt  fell 
between  himself  and  his  mistress,  he  forgot  the  indis- 
pensable ceremony  of  casting  a  portion  over  his  left 
shoulder.  To  the  conviction  that  a  terrible  feud  was 
at  hand  between  his  mistress  and  himself,  was  added 
another,  to  wit,  that  the  House  of  Habingdon  was  nod- 
ding to  its  fall ;  concerning  which  he  had  been  assured 
by  his  grandfather,  who  was  accounted  almost  as  old 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  Ill 

as  Methusalah,  there  was  an  ancient  prophecy  which 
ran  as  follows  : — 

When  ye  saulte  sal  daunce  aboute  ye  tabelle, 
Then  tymes  wille  comme  ryghte  execrabelle, 
And  ye  olde  house  of  Habingdonne, 
See  tymes  ytte  sal  never  see  agone. 
Sancte  Rumbold  and  Sancte  Frideswyde, 
Keepe  ys  houe,  or  wae  betyde. 

Gilbert  had  never  before  heard  of  either  of  these 
Sanctes;  but  ever  after  continued  to  pray  devoutly  for 
their  good  offices  in  behalf  of  the  House  of  Habingdon, 
until  in  later  times,  he  gradually  imbibed  such  an  or- 
thodox antipathy  to  the  entire  Roman  Calendar,  and 
such  a  horror  of  St.  Peter  especially,  that  he  could 
scarcely  refrain  from  railing  against  his  fellow  apostles. 
He  felt  assured  that  a  house  that  had  no  better  sup- 
port than  Sancte  Rumbold  and  Sancte  Frideswyde, 
could  not  stand  forever,  and  in  fact  wondered  at  its 
having  stood  so  long.  In  short  he  had  become  a  con- 
vert to  his  master's  opinions,  or  rather  example,  and 
cherished  such  a  virulent  prejudice  against  the  Pope, 
whom  he  always  denounced  in  orthodox  phrase,  to- 
gether with  all  the  adjuncts,  appurtenances,  and  cere- 
monies of  Popery,  that  he  abjured  the  four  cardinal 
points,  and  lost  all  respect  for  prudence,  temperance, 
justice,  and  fortitude,  when  told  they  were  cardinal 
virtues.  The  good  old  man — for  he  was  as  honest  as 
the  day,  and  as  harmless  as  a  ghost,  soon  pined  away 
under  the  innovations  of  his  mistress,  and  his  fears  for 


112  THE    PURITAN     AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

the  House  of  Habingdon.  His  brief  remaining  history 
is  that  of  all  the  human  race;  he  sickened,  died,  was 
buried  and  forgotten  by  all  but  the  author  of  this 
tale. 

In  the  meantime,  Harold  remained  at  home,  a  quiet 
though  by  no  means  an  uninterested  spectator  of  pass- 
ing events.  He  formed  no  intimacies  with  his  neigh- 
bors, who  were  of  different  sects,  and  received  few 
visitors  but  travelling  preachers  of  his  own  persuasion, 
whose  zeal  not  unfrequently  approached  the  burning 
confines  of  fanaticism.  With  this  exception,  the  daily 
routine  of  his  life  would  have  become  tedious  by  its 
uniformity,  had  he  not  found  perpetual  excitement  in 
the  increasing  fervency  of  his  devotions,  which  gradually 
filled  up  a  great  portion  of  his  time,  and  precluded  all 
amusements  or  relaxation.  He  warred  against  rural 
pleasures,  and  rustic  recreations  ;  the  merry  song  of 
the  milk-maid  was  hushed  in  his  domain ;  the  sound 
of  laughter  never  echoed  within  his  walls  ;  he  often 
turned  distastefully  from  the  smile  of  the  infant  Miri- 
am, now  beginning  to  sport  and  prattle  ;  and  was  only 
reconciled  to  the  music  of  the  merry  minstrels  of  the 
morning,  by  the  idea  that  they  were  chaunting  their 
spiritual  songs.  Though  a  man  of  more  than  ordinary 
talents,  and  of  undoubted  worth,  he  was  not  liked  by 
his  inferiors,  or  popular  among  his  equals.  His  wife 
\\vas  gentle  and  affectionate,  and  his  daughter  obeyed 
him  implicitly ;  but  the  feeling  they  cherished  towards 
him  was  what  the  Indian  meant,  when  he  wished  to 
describe  that  of  his  tribe  for  white  men — it  was  that 


THE    PURITAN    A\n    HIS    DAUGHTER.  113 

of  "  Fear-love."  His  limited  intercourse  being,  as  be- 
fore stated,  confined  to  a  single  class,  instead  of  ex- 
panding his  mind  and  liberalizing  his  principles,  only 
served  to  contract  the  one,  and  render  the  other  more 
rigid  and  intolerant.  He  fancied  himself  humble,  but 
if  so,  it  was  only  to  his  Maker,  not  towards  his  fellow- 
creatures.  He  became  infected  with  the  very  worst 
species  of  pride — spiritual  pride — and  finally  wrapt 
himself  up  in  the  mantle  of  self-righteousness,  like  the 
Pharisees  of  old. 

The  Dissenters  were  now  in  the  ascendancy,  and 
instead  of  forgetting,  only  remembered  the  persecu- 
tions they  had  suffered,  to  retaliate  on  those  who  had 
inflicted  them.  The  wolves  in  sheep's  clothing,  as 
they  were  opprobriously  called,  had  now  a  full  taste  of 
the  cup  they  had  proffered  to  the  lips  of  others  ;  the 
churches  changed  occupants  ;  and  the  universities 
were  treated  pretty  much  as  they  were  at  the  Refor- 
mation. The  Parliamentary  forces  had  taken  posses- 
sion of  Oxford,  and  their  chaplains  possessed  them- 
selves of  the  pulpits,  where,  as  a  cotemporary  writer 
of  the  opposite  party  says — "  Their  preaching  was  the 
cause  of  great  scorn  in  some  and  laughter  in  others  ; 
because  their  prayers  and  sermons  were  long  and  te- 
dious ;  because  they  made  wry  mouths,  squint  eyes, 
and  screwed  faces,  quite  altering  them  from  what  Grod 
and  nature  had  made  them ;  because  they  had  antic 
behavior,  squeaking  voices,  and  feeling  tones,  fit  ra- 
ther for  stage  players  and  country  beggars  to  use,  than 
such  as  were  to  expound  the  Scriptures. " 


1  14  TIIK    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

But  what  most  excited  the  indignation  of  the  loyal- 
ists, was  an  ordinance  of  the  Parliamentary  visitors, 
directing  that  the  bellsman  of  the  university  should  not 
go  about  in  the  customary  manner,  at  the  funeral  of 
any  member  of  the  university  ;  that  the  fashion  of 
gowns  and  caps  should  be  changed  ;  and  "  that  all  ex- 
cess and  vanity  in  powdering  their  hair,  wearing  knots 
of  ribands  on  their  clothes  and  in  their  hats;  walk- 
ing in  boots,  spurs,  and  boot-hose  tops,"  should  be 
abandoned.  Our  readers  may  smile  at  those  seeming- 
ly unimportant  matters,  but  the  history  of  religious 
dissentions  will  inform  them  that  lesser  causes  than 
these  have  set  the  world  in  arms,  and  deluged  the 
earth  with  blood.  It  requires  the  utmost  exertion  of 
despotic  power  to  change  the  fashion  of  a  hat,  the  cut 
of  the  coat,  or  the  mode  of  wearing  the  hair. 

But  though  the  enemies  of  royalty  had  got  the  up- 
per hand,  and  gained  the  prize  they  sought,  the  most 
difficult  and  delicate  crisis  had  not  been  passed.  The 
rights  for  which  the  patriots  had  struggled  were  indeed 
attained,  but  it  seemed  they  knew  not  what  to  do  with 
them ;  and  the  establishment  of  a  new  government 
proved  a  more  difficult  task  than  that  of  pulling  down 
an  old  one.  The  labor  of  removing  the  rubbish  was 
greater  than  that  of  erecting  a  new  building  and  in  ad- 
dition to  this,  the  workmen  employed  differed  altoge- 
ther in  the  plan  of  the  edifice.  Presbyterians,  Puri- 
tans, Anabaptists,  Brownists,  Levelers,  and  Indepen- 
dents were  mixed  pell-mell  together,  without  any 
cement  to  the  heterogenous  mass ;  and  Harold  began 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  115 

seriously  to  apprehend,  that  if  this  state  of  things  con- 
tinued much  longer,  the  people,  tired  of  being  tossed 
about  at  random  on  the  ever-changing  ocean,  would 
eventually  seek  the  old  haven,  and  voluntarily  give 
back  what  they  had  forcibly  wrested  away.  His  fears 
were  realized  even  sooner  than  he  anticipated,  and  he 
believed  his  old  commander,  Cromwell,  invested  with 
a  power  greater  than  that  of  royalty,  though  masked 
under  a  different  name.  It  could  scarcely  be  called  a 
usurpation,  since  in  reality  no  established  authority 
existed  in  England.  The  royal  power  was  in  abey- 
ance. The  sceptre  lay  in  Oliver's  way,  and  he  found 
it.  Anarchy  can  only  be  cured  by  despotism ;  and 
when  contending  factions,  each  equally  incapable  of 
maintaining  that  permanent  ascendancy  which  is  in- 
dispensable to  the  peace  and  order  of  communities,  are 
steering  the  vessel  of  state  at  random,  amid  shoals  and 
quicksands,  the  master-mind  must  seize  the  helm,  to 
secure  a  safe  harbor,  and  to  do  this  he  must  be  sole 
commander. 

Harold,  as  before  hinted,  had  almost  imperceptibly 
become  a  sturdy  republican,  or  Seceder,  as  they  were 
denominated  by  the  cavaliers — and  the  elevation  of 
Cromwell,  to  the  supreme  power  of  the  state,  galled 
him  sorely.  His  death  after  a  few  years  of  brilliant 
successes,  in  which  he  did  much  for  England,  but  lit- 
tle for  his  own  happiness ;  the  accession  and  abdica- 
tion of  his  son  Richard  ;  the  erection  of  a  council  of 
state  ;  and  at  length  the  restoration  of  Charles  the  Se- 
cond without  conditions,  all  followed  in  quick  succes- 


116  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

sion.  Thus  the  same  men,  though  still  in  the  meridian 
of  life,  had  lived  to  see  those  rights  which  had  been 
purchased  by  years  of  civil  commotion  and  bloodshed, 
voluntarily  surrendered  back,  by  a  people  wearied  by 
a  succession  of  changes,  which  placed  them  perpetually 
at  the  mercy  of  cabals  and  factions. 

It  was  at  this  period,  that  Harold,  disgusted  with 
the  abortive  issue  of  that  great  struggle,  in  which  he 
had  prayed,  fought  and  bled  ;  and  apprehensive  of  the 
return  of  those  persecutions,  which  in  his  heart  he 
could  not  deny  the  Puritans  had  justly  merited  by 
'their  conduct  during  their  ascendancy,  began  to  medi- 
tate a  decisive  movement.  "When  he  witnessed  the 
frivolity  of  manners,  the  relaxation  of  morals,  and  the 
insulting  ridicule  heaped  on  the  heads  of  the  Puritans, 
his  heart  swelled  with  mingled  sorrow  and  indigna- 
tion, and  he  turned  his  thoughts  to  the  far  off  wilder- 
ness of  the  West,  where,  among  the  savage  Pagans,  he 
hoped  to  find  that  toleration  which  Christian  charity 
had  hitherto  withheld.  The  vision  of  the  medinaof  a 
new  world,  whither  already  the  victims  of  persecution 
had  sought  and  found  Ta  refuge,  had  often  flitted  before 
his  fancy  previous  to  this  despicable  termination  of  a 
great  revolution,  made  little  by  the  littleness  of  men. 
But  it  was  at  this  time  considered  a  daring  enterpme, 
requiring  not  only  courage,  hardihood,  and  self-denial, 
but  a  pious  confidence  in  the  support  and  direction  of 
Providence.  Harold  possessed  all  these  requisites,  and 
having  at  length  with  cautious  deliberation  decided 
on  his  course,  proceeded  promptly  to  carry  it  out.  His 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  117 

first  step  was  to  propose  it  to  Susan,  who  though 
accustomed  to  buffet  the  ills  of  life,  shrunk  from  such 
hardships,  dangers,  and  privations,  as  she  had  heard 
detailed  by  eye  witnesses,  returned  from  the  land  of 
the  Pilgrims. 

"  I  love  my  country,  Susan,"  said  Harold — "  I  have 
shed  my  blood  in  what  I  thought,  and  still  think,  a 
great  and  good  cause,  and  I  am  ready  to  do  it  again, 
whenever  there  is  any  hope  it  will  not  be  shed  in  vain. 
But  I  have  lived  to  see  that  freedom  which  I  had  hoped 
to  achieve  sacrificed  to  that  very  family  which  has  en- 
deavored to  crush  it  for  generations  past.  I  have  lived 
to  see  all  sorts  of  profaneness,  lewdness,  luxury,  and 
vice,  spreading  far  and  wide,  through  the  example  of 
the  King  and  his  courtiers,  by  whom  all  virtue,  decency 
and  sobriety,  are  ridiculed  and  laughed  to  scorn.  I  see 
the  Parliament  united  with  the  court,  and  ready  to 
sacrifice  the  people  for  the  wages  of  corruption.  My 
countrymen  are  bought  and  sold  like  cattle  or  slaves, 
and  no  man  is  safe,  but  by  bribery  or  flattery.  It  is 
true  that  our  lives  are  as  yet  spared ;  but  who  can 
rely  on  the  act  of  indemnity,  or  put  faith  in  a  King 
whose  word  is  made  a  subject  of  ridicule  by  a  profli- 
gate rhymster  ?  What  tie  can  bind  a  dissolute  mo- 
narch, and  a  slavish  Parliament,  one  of  whom  openly 
sets  at  defiance  the  commands  of  his  Maker,  while  the 
other  is  equally  regardless  of  the  rights  of  His  creatures. 
When  I  see  such  men  as  Vane,  Lambert,  Hardrigge, 
Milton  and  Ludlow,  offered  up  on  the  scaffold,  or  hunt- 
ed into  exile,  I  feel  a  conviction  that  my  own  insigni- 


118  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

ficance  is  my  only  protection.     Let  us  go,  and  seek  in 
the  new  world  what  is  denied  in  the  old." 

"Alas,  Harold" — replied  the  meek,  submissive  wife — 
looking  down  on  little  Miriam,  who  stood  wondering  at 
the  earnest  energy  of  her  father,  whose  discourse  she 
hardly  comprehended — "  Alas  !  would  you  take  me 
and  our  daughter  from  our  home,  to  be  buffeted  by  the 
waves  of  the  sea,  and  encounter  the  still  greater  perils 
of  the  land  ?  To  bury  us  in  the  howling  wilderness, 
where  we  and  our  posterity  must  sojourn  with  wild 
savages,  and  savage  beasts,  perhaps  in  time  to  become 
savages  like  them,  and  lose  all  reverence  for  the  laws 
of  man  or  the  will  of  God  ?  What  is  the  new  world, 
and  what  will  it  ever  be  but  an  unpeopled  wilder- 


"  Cease,  Susan — thou  speakest  like  a  woman,  or  ra- 
ther like  a  child.  Know  that  the  moment  in  which  the 
inspired  navigator,  Columbus,  caught  sight  of  the  new 
world,  was  fraught  with  consequences  more  extensive, 
important,  and  lasting,  than  ever  originated  in  any 
single  act  of  any  human  being  that  has  existed  since 
the  fall  of  Adam.  It  was  the  recovery  of  a  lost  child 
of  the  universe,  destined,  if  I  foresee  aright,  to  grow 
up  into  a  giant,  possessing  all  the  activity  of  youth, 
all  the  energies  of  ripened  manhood,  and  all  the  expe- 
rience and  sagacity  of  a  green  old  age.  It  gave  a  new 
impulse  to  human  action  and  enterprise  ;  it  provided 
a  refuge  from  civil  oppression  and  religious  persecu- 
tion; it  offered  a  boundless  field  for  the  cramped  ener- 
gies of  the  mind  and  the  fettered  activity  of  the  body  ; 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  119 

it  held  out  rich  rewards  to  courage  and  genius ;  it 
promised  to  enterprise  wealth,  to  industry  competence, 
food  to  the  hungry,  and  freedom  to  the  oppressed. 
The  old  world  has  long  been  the  exclusive  property  of 
the  rich  and  powerful ;  but  here  is  one  that  seems 
expressly  created  for  the  indigent  and  lowly.  America 
is  the  poor  man's  inheritance.  The  land  we  live  in 
already  grows  weary  of  her  inhabitants,  insomuch 
that  man,  the  most  precious  of  all  creatures,  is  here 
become  more  vile  and  base  than  the  earth  he  treads 
upon.  The  social  and  domestic  ties  are  as  burnt  flax, 
and  children,  friends  and  neighbors,  are  become  bur- 
thens instead  of  blessings,  because  they  stand  in  each 
others  way,  and  the  laborers  are  too  great  for  the  har- 
vest. Let  us  quit,  forever,  this  doomed  land ;  let  us 
go  where  men  are  required  to  carry  into  effect  the  in- 
scrutable decrees  of  Providence,  and  can  assume  their 
proper  place,  as  joint  proprietors  of  that  earth  which 
was  bestowed  not  on  the  eldest  son,  but  all  the  poste- 
rity of  Adam.  Let  us  straightway  set  forth  on  our 
pilgrimage  while  we  may.  The  blood  of  martyrs  has 
been  shed  in  vain,  and  what  was  won  by  the  virtue  of 
the  people  has  been  lost  by  the  degeneracy  of  their 
leaders.  But  such  is  the  fate  of  nations  ;  they  fight 
and  conquer  ;  they  trust  and  are  betrayed.  " 

It  will  be  perceived,  that  Harold,  with  all  his  out- 
ward coat  of  ice,  had  a  warm  under-current  of  ardent 
enthusiasm,  which  flowed  from  the  fountain  of  nature, 
and  could  not  at  times  be  repressed.  His  enthusiasm, 
though  in  a  great  measure  absorbed  in  his  piety,  occa- 


120  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

sionally  took  another  direction,  and  when  thus  awaken- 
ed, flowed  impetuously  in  its  new  channel.  Susan 
was  overawed,  if  not  convinced,  and  expressed  her  sub- 
mission as  follows,  pointing  to  Miriam  : 

"  This  is  the  daughter  of  my  affection,  but  thou 
art  the  husband  of  my  earliest  love.  Thy  claim  is 
stronger  than  hers,  and  therefore,  will  I  go  whither 
thou  goest,  and  risk  this  dear  pledge  to  all  the  perils 
that  may  befall,  in  obedience  to  my  heart  and  my  duty. 
The  earth  is  our  mother,  and  we  shall  find  our  kin- 
dred dust  wherever  we  abide." 

Harold  ought  to  have  kissed  his  wife,  and  thanked 
her  for  the  sacrifice  thus  offered  to  conjugal  duty. 
But  like  very  many  sturdy  advocates  of  the  right  of 
self-government,  out  of  doors,  he  did  not  apply  the 
doctrine  practically  within.  He  had  adopted  the 
Salique  law  in  domestic  matters,  and  confined  female 
jurisdiction  to  certain  limits,  which  no  republican 
female  of  our  days  wTould  probably  submit  to,  without 
a  deal  of  preliminary  discipline.  He  therefore  received 
this  concession  without  any  special  acknowledgment ; 
for  which  omission,  in  our  opinion,  he  forfeited  all  claim 
to  the  like  in  future.  When  any  woman — most  especially 
a  wife — gives  up  an  opinion,  or  sacrifices  a  wish,  even 
though  the  one  may  be  wrong,  and  the  other  unreason- 
able, she  deserves  a  kiss  at  least,  if  not  a  suit  of  new 
drawing-room  furniture  from  Paris. 

This  decisive  point  being  settled,  Harold  proceeded 
without  delay  to  prepare  for  his  pilgrimage  to  the  New 
World,whioh,  in  our  poor  opinion,  is  a  great  improvement 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  121 

on  the  old  one  in  many  particulars.  It  was  some  time 
before  he  could  find  a  purchaser  for  his  estate,  to  his 
liking,  for  he  made  a  point  of  -not  disposing  of  it  to  a 
cavalier.  One  promising  negotiation  was  broken  off 
by  a  discussion  on  free  will ;  another  by  a  difference 
of  opinion  in  the  interpretation  of  a  text ;  a  third 
ended  in  a  downright  quarrel  concerning  the  respective 
merits  of  Luther  and  Calvin  ;  while  a  fourth,  involving 
the  duty  of  charity  to  all  mankind,  was  concluded  by 
Harold  turning  his  antagonist  out  of  doors. 

At  length  he  succeeded  in  finding  a  chapman  alto- 
gether unexceptionable,  who  so  thoroughly  agreed  with 
him  in  his  opinion,  that  everybody  said  he  got  a 
great  bargain.  Having  gone  through  all  the  necessary 
preliminaries,  it  now  became  his  painful  task  to  take  a 
final  leave  of  a  home  hallowed  by  the  recollections  of 
so  many  centuries.  It  was  indeed  a  spot  equally 
endeared  by  past  association  and  quiet  rural  beauty. 
The  mansion  house  was  neither  spacious  nor  tasteful ; 
on  the  contrary,  it  was  by  no  means  remarkable  for 
its  size,  and  had  little  to  please  the  eye,  save  a  quaint 
picturesque  irregularity,  accompanied  by  an  aspect  of 
most  venerable  antiquity,  without  being  quite  as  old 
as  the  family,  but  sufficiently  so  to  combine  all  those 
conveniencies  of  arrangement,  which,  owing  to  the 
progress  of  the  age  and  the  development  of  mind, 
are  now  denounced  as  sore  inconveniences.  It  was 
of  a  dark  slatey  colored  stone ;  the  walls  pro- 
digiously thick ;  the  ceilings  prodigiously  low ;  the 
windows  narrow  and  deep ;  and  there  was  a  vast 
6 


122  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

many  hiding  places  for  rats,  ghosts,  refugees,  and  all 
persons  that  might  find  it  convenient  to  be  missing. 

A  pigmy  river  ran  in  front  of  the  house,  which  was 
seated  on  a  pretty  steep  bank,  terraced  down  to  the 
shore,  fringed  with  grass  and  decked  with  a  long  row 
of  majestic  trees  that  strongly  smacked  of  the  antiquity 
of  the  House  of  Habingdon.  The  windings  of  the  little 
pastoral  stream  might  be  seen  for  miles  above  and 
below,  and  its  murmurs,  which,  in  the  stillness  of  night, 
were  distinctly  heard  in  the  sleeping  rooms,  might 
soothe  into  repose  any  but  a  spirit  disquieted  by  re- 
morse, or  condemned  to  weary  wakefulness  by  care 
and  gluttony.  The  country  all  around  was  rich,  ver- 
dant and  alluring  ;  and  though  the  view  was  not  very 
extensive,  it  was  only  the  more  varied  as  well  interest- 
ing from  the  distinctness  with  which  every  object  was 
presented  to  the  eye.  Nothing  marred  the  beauty  of 
the  prospect,  but  the  tall  steeple  of  a  neighboring 
parish  church,  of  which,  the  wolves  in  sheep's  clothing 
had  again  acquired  possession,  and  on  which  Harold 
often  turned  his  back  in  pious  disdain.  Strange  that 
the  love  of  our  Maker  should  produce  antipathy  to  His 
creatures  !  All  men  differ  in  form,  face,  and  disposi- 
tion ;  yet  they  do  not  cut  each  others'  throats,  or  fall 
together  by  the  ears  on  that  account.  But  the  moment 
they  disagree  in  opinion,  especially  on  subjects  involv- 
ing the  obligations  of  universal  charity,  they  seem,  in 
their  zeal  to  establish  the  abstract  principle,  altogether 
to  forget  its  practical  application. 

As  Harold  delivered  the  rusty  old  keys  to  the  pur- 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  lid 

chaser  who  had  come  to  take  possession,  his  heart 
almost  failed,  and  the  ghosts  of  his  Saxon  ancestors 
seemed  to  rise  up  in  judgment  against  him.  Yonder 
under  those  old  yew  trees  lay  the  family  burying  place, 
where  rested  in  peaceful  oblivion  a  long  train  of  suc- 
ceeding generations,  who  had  followed  each  other  in 
the  same  old  track,  and  slept  not  more  peaceably  than 
they  had  lived  together.  He  remembered  none  of  these 
but  his  parents,  and  all  his  recollections  were  centred 
in  their  graves.  He  had  paid  them  a  last  visit,  and 
when  he  returned,  his  wife  anxiously  inquired  what 
was  the  matter  with  him.  "  Nothing," — replied  he — 
"  I  have  only  been  bidding  a  last  farewell  to  some  old 
friends."  Susan  understood  him  and  inquired  no 
further. 

As  they  passed  through  the  avenue  of  old  trees  that 
led  to  the  high  road,  he  cast  a  long,  long  glance  at  the 
past  and  an  anxious  look  towards  the  future.  Between 
the  two  his  firmness  forsook  him,  and  a  few  solitary 
tears  coursed  down  the  cheeks  of  the  iron  Puritan.  But 
he  recovered  himself  almost  instantly,  by  a  mighty 
effort,  and  looked  behind  him  no  more.  To  Susan,  the 
parting  was  marked  by  somewhat  less  emotion.  She 
had  not  the  same  recollections  and  associations.  She 
could  only  look  back  to  a  few  years  spent  in  the  abode 
she  was  now  leaving  for  ever,  and  not  so  much  what 
was  past  she  regretted,  as  what  was  to  come  she 
feared.  But  there  is  in  the  heart  of  women  an  innate 
vagrant  disposition,  arising  probably  from  their  confine- 
ment at  home,  and  the  sameness  of  their  occupations. 


124  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

They  luxuriate  in  new  scenes,  awakening  new  ideas, 
and  we  have  more  than  once  seen  them  actually 
delighted  with  danger,  simply  because  it  produced  an 
excitement.  Susan  thought  more  of  tfie  future  and  less 
of  the  past  than  Harold :  and  as  they  seated  themselves 
in  the  carriage  that  was  to  bear  them  away,  gazed, 
not  on  the  forsaken  home,  but  on  her  little  girl  who 
was  weeping,  she  scarcely  knew  why. 

Accompanied  by  two  servants,  one  of  whom  was  the 
nephew  of  old  Gilbert  Taverner,  and  already  somewhat 
advanced  in  years ;  the  other  a  staid,  starched,  devout 
spinster,  devotedly  attached  to  Susan,  on  the  score  of 
her  father,  by  whom  she  had  been  converted — they 
proceeded  to  London,  as  the  most  likely  place,  at  that 
time,  to  procure  a  passage  to  America,  and  make  their 
moneyed  arrangements.  Here  they  were  detained  a 
tedious  time,  waiting  for  a  vessel,  the  only  one  then  in 
preparation  for  the  "Virginia  voyage,"  as  it  was  called. 
It  will  be  recollected  that  at  this  period,  the  ignorance 
of  the  people  of  England,  especially  the  more  en- 
lightened classes,  in  all  matters  relating  to  America, 
was,  if  possible,  more  profound  than  at  the  present  day. 
Of  its  geographical  divisions,  the  distance  and  relative 
position  of  the  different  sections,  they  had  either  a 
vague  idea,  or  no  idea  at  all.  In  the  old  maps  and 
books  the  entire  country  comprised  within  the  limits 
of  the  British  Plantations  was  called  Virginia  ;  and  the 
vast  distances  between  the  different  parts,  with  the 
difficulties  of  communication,  was  little  comprehended. 
People  applied  their  experience  at  home,  to  the  wild 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  125 

regions  of  the  west,  and  thoughtlessly  imagined  that 
there  was  no  greater  difficulty  in  making  a  journey  or 
voyage  from  Jamestown  to  Boston,  than  from  London 
to  Edinburgh.  Be  this  at  it  may,  people  at  that  time 
knew  more  of  their  own  business,  and  less  of  that  of 
others  than  they  do  now.  It  will  not  therefore  appear 
so  very  surprising  that  Harold  engaged  his  passage  in 
a  vessel  bound  to  Virginia  instead  of  New  England, 
imagining  there  would  be  little  difficulty  in  reaching 
the  latter,  either  by  land  or  sea. 

-  The  truth  is,  he  was  impatient  to  leave  England, 
where  his  religion,  his  manners,  and  principles  were 
subjects  of  perpetual  mockery.  The  profligacy  of  the 
King  and  his  court  now  become  open  and  undisguised ; 
the  general  relaxation  of  morals  and  decency,  partly 
the  result  of  this  example,  partly  from  a  spirit  of  op- 
position to  the  severity  of  the  Puritans;  the  revival  of 
obnoxious  amusements,  more  especially  the  theatres, 
where  the  sect  to  which  he  belonged  was  a  favorite 
subject  of  ridicule,  all  combined  to  render  his  abode 
in  London  little  less  than  martyrdom.  Accordingly  he 
embarked  in  a  vessel  bound  for  Chesapeake  Bay, 
carrying  with  him  sufficient  funds  to  purchase  a  prin- 
cipality in  the  wilderness.  Strong  as  were  his  motives 
for  seeking  a  far  distant  home,  he  could  not  quell  a 
melancholy  feeling,  arising  from  mingled  recollections 
of  the  past,  and  anxious  forebodings  of  the  future. 
As  the  vessel  glided  along  the  bank  of  the  silver 
Thames,  the  smiling  landscape  seemed  to  beckon  him 
to  its  green  lawns  and  shady  woodlands,  and  when  at 


120  THK    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

length  the  land  of  his  nativity,  childhood,  youth  and 
manhood,  gradually  diminished  to  a  speck  on  the  hori- 
zon, and  finally  faded  from  his  view,  he  felt  as  if  he 
had  turned  his  back  on  the  world.  Stern  and  inflexi- 
ble as  was  his  spirit,  he  would  have  sunk  under  the 
weight  of  his  feelings,  had  he  not  been  sustained  bv  a 
sentiment  capable  of  resisting  all  the  perils  of  life,  and 
defying  all  the  agonies  of  death. 

At  this  period  there  were  no  floating  palaces  on  the 
seas,  nor  was  the  number  of  voyages  so  great,  as  to 
have  made,  as  it  were,  a  beaten  track  across  the  broad 
Atlantic.  The  vessels  of  that  age  would  have  made 
but  a  poor  figure  by  the  side  of  a  Liverpool  packet ; 
and  one  of  the  most  singular  circumstances  attending 
the  progress  of  maritime  discovery,  is  the  undoubted 
fact,  that  its  greatest  achievements  were  performed  in 
vessels  which  at  this  later  period  would  be  held  in- 
adequate to  a  coasting  voyage ;  and  that,  too,  without 
the  aid  of  nautical  almanacs,  or  charts  to  guide 
them.  It  would  require  a  stout-hearted  mariner  of 
these  times  to  adventure  a  voyage  across  the  Atlantic, 
in  one  of  the  caravels  of  the  great  Columbus.  Yet  in 
such  a  one,  did  the  daring  and  inspired  enthusiast — 
for  such  he  was,  with  all  his  cool  self-possession — in 
such  a  frail  barque,  did  he  launch  out  into  the  un- 
tracked  ocean,  in  which  keel  had  never  yet  ploughed 
a  furrow,  and  straight  as  an  arrow  from  the  Indian 
bow,  proceed  to  his  destined  mark,  until  he  "  gave  a 
new  world  to  Castile  and  Leon,"  for  which  he  was 
repaid  by  fetters. 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  127 

The  clumsy  barque  proceeded  slowly,  buffeting,  or 
rather  being  buffeted  by  the  unceremonious  waves, 
and  soon  approved  herself  without  speed  or  bottom ; 
for  it  was  not  long  before  the  pumps  were  constantly 
going.  The  captain,  an  avaricious  tarpaulin,  had 
stinted  his  allowance  of  provisions  to  a  short  voyage, 
and  as  it  soon  appeared  that  this  would  be  a  long  one, 
he  began,  prudently  in  time,  to  prepare  for  what  he 
saw  was  coming,  by  "  hauling  taut  his  sheets,"  as 
he  called  it  in  nautical  phrase — to  wit — by  dealing  out 
his  provisions  with  a  sparing  hand.  In  approaching 
the  southern  latitudes,  they  sometimes  lay  becalmed 
on  the  melancholy  waste,  under  a  broiling  sun,  and 
wallowing  amid  the  long  rolling  waves  without  making 
any  head-way  ;  at  others  they  were  irresistibly  driven 
by  tempests,  far  out  of  their  course ;  and  as  they  ap- 
proached the  coast,  became  the  sport  of  currents,  that 
put  them  sadly  out  of  their  reckoning.  In  addition  to 
these  annoyances,  there  were  three  or  four  roystering 
cavaliers,  younger  sons,  who  having  exhausted  their 
money  and  credit,  at  the  ordinaries,  had  taken  the 
"Virginia  voyage "  in  hopes  of  marrying  an  Indian 
heiress,  with  a  kingdom  for  her  dower. 

These  were  a  knot  of  noisy,  merry,  reckless  rogues,  with 
more  wit  than  wisdom,  and  more  generosity  than  pru- 
dence. Nothing  could  make  them  serious ;  and  when 
by  degrees  they  were  all  put  on  quarter  rations,  they 
made  a  jest  even  of  hunger,  becoming  more  merry  and 
noisy  than  ever.  Added  to  this,  they  had  a  variety  of 
jests  and  ludicrous  anecdotes  of  the  Crop-ears,  which 


128  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

they  took  peculiar  pleasure  in  repeating  before  Harold, 
who  though  he  preserved  an  outward  coolness  and  in- 
difference, had  much  ado,  to  quell  those  sturdy  rebels, 
flesh  and  blood,  so  often  victorious  over  the  spirit.  He 
imagined  he  forgave  them  ;  but  it  is  to  be  feared  that 
he  only  nourished  a  deeper  inward  feeling,  by  repress- 
ing all  outward  demonstrations.  It  is  indeed  astonish- 
ing how  knocking  a  man  down  contributes  to  harmo- 
nize the  irritated  spirit,  and  how  much  sooner  we  for- 
give an  insult  that  we  have  promptly  avenged,  than 
one  we  have  quietly  pocketed.  The  wise  old  gentle- 
man at  our  elbow  is  of  opinion  that  when  two  persons 
are  fairly  at  feud,  it  is  on  the  whole  better,  as  the 
phraze  is,  "to  fight  it  out,  at  once,"  than  nourish  a 
bitter  spleen,  that  produces  perpetual  contention,  or 
secret  ill  offices,  which  though  not  amounting  to 
breaches  of  the  peace,  occasion  wounds  far  more  pain- 
ful and  incurable. 

But  the  longest  voyage,  as  well  as  the  longest  story, 
must  have  an  end.  At  length  they  reached  the  capes 
of  the  Chesapeake,  and  gliding  into  comparatively 
smooth  water,  the  good  ship  seemed  so  greatly  relieved, 
that  she  careered  gallantly  with  wind  and  tide,  past 
"VVilloughby  Point,  and  Old  Point  Comfort,  into  Hamp- 
ton Roads,  whence  in  due  time,  she  anchored  off  the 
cradle  of  the  new  world,  where  the  passengers  were 
landed  in  a  state  of  miserable  exhaustion.  Though 
the  old  cavaliers,  who  had  gathered  together  on  the 
appearance  of  the  vessel — a  rare  occurrence — stiffened 
their  tails  a  little  at  the  appearance  of  a  Crop-ear, 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  129 

their  prejudices  speedily  yielded  to  the  generous  im- 
pulses of  hospitality,  still  inherent  in  their  posterity, 
and  they  forgot  their  ancient  prejudices  against  his  faith, 
in  sympathy  for  his  sufferings. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

The  New  World — Harold  under  the  Necessity  of  Changing  his  Original 
Destination — Purchases  a  Plantation — Some  account  of  his  Nearest 
Neighbor,  Master  Hugh  Tyringham  and  His  Right-hand  Man, 
Gregory  Moth,  the  Oxford  Scholar.  A  Small  Dose  of  Wisdom  from 
our  Old  Friend,  and  an  Apology  to  the  Reader— A  Young  Crop- 
Ear  Lady,  and  a  Young  Gentleman  Cavalier  Introduced — The 
Cavalier  and  the  Round-Head  don't  Agree  any  Better  than  the 
Young  People — Consequences  of  Forbidding  Young  Folks  to  Do 
What  they  Have  no  Mind  to. 

HAROLD  was  now  in  a  new  world,  where  everything 
was  changed,  except  himself,  his  wife,  and  his 
daughter.  The  broad  river,  so  different  from  the 
dwarfish  stream  to  which  he  had  been  so  long  accus- 
tomed ;  the  dark  interminable  forest  that  bounded  the 
prospect  in  every  direction,  hiding  the  bounteous  earth 
from  the  rays  of  the  sun  and  the  eyes  of  her  children, 
and  silent  as  the  abodes  of  the  dead,  except  when 
awakened  by  the  long  quivering  howl  of  the  hungry 
wolf,  or  prowling  savage ;  the  absence  of  cultivation, 
except  in  little  spots,  few  and  far  between ;  the  homely 
simplicity  of  the  houses,  as  well  as  the  furniture ; 
together  with  many  other  marked  peculiarities,  pre- 
sented a  contrast  to  the  world  he  had  just  left  behind, 
not  altogether  unpleasing,  since  it  awakened  new 


THK    HrniTAN    AND    JUS    DAUGHTER.  131 

impressions  in  his  mind.  Susan,  too,  was  filled  with 
wonder,  and  Miriam,  now  on  the  verge  of  woman- 
hood, was  half-pleased,  half-frightened,  when  the  tall 
feathered  redman  patted  her  head  and  called  her 
Pappoose. 

His  first  inquiries  speedily  convinced  him  of  the 
difficulty  in  finding  his  way,  promptly,  to  the  Land  of 
the  Pilgrims ;  and  he  discovered  to  all  intents  and 
purposes,  he  was  further  off  than  ever,  if  obstacles 
may  be  said  to  constitute  distance.  To  proceed  thither 
by  land  was  out  of  the  question.  The  intervening 
country,  with  here  and  there  an  exception,  was  little 
else  than  a  wilderness,  through  which  none  but  savages 
could  find  their  way,  and  presented  a  combination  of 
dangers  as  well  as  difficulties.  At  this  period,  too, 
opportunities  of  going  by  sea  were  of  extremely  rare 
occurrence.  Only  once  in  a  great  while  a  coaster 
would  creep  along  shore,  and  feel  its  way  into  the 
Chesapeake,  with  a  cargo  of  notions.  The  sole  com- 
mercial produce  of  Virginia  was  tobacco,  and  the  Pil- 
grims were  no  smokers.  It  might  be  a  year,  or  more, 
ere  one  of  these  adventurous  navigators  made  his 
appearance. 

Harold  therefore  remained  at  the  little  capital,  for 
some  time  in  a  state  of  doubt  and  hesitation  as  to  the 
course  he  should  pursue.  During  this  period  his  situ- 
ation was  rather  irksome.  He  was  displeased  with 
the  tone  of  manners  that  prevailed  among  the  cavaliers, 
and  more  than  once  fretted  by  allusions  to  Crop-ears, 
Roundheads,  and  Levellers.  Though  surrounded  by 


132  THE    PURITAN    A\L>    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

dangers,  beset  by  hardships,  and  often  in  danger  of 
perishing  by  famine,  the  emigrants  to  Jamestown 
were  a  gay,  thoughtless  race,  and  seemed  to  have 
caught  from  the  neighboring  savages  that  improvi- 
dence of  the  future,  which  is  one  of  their  leading 
characteristics.  They  were  not  much  given  to  long 
prayers,  or  spiritual  songs ;  they  were  equally  loyal 
and  orthodox,  though  they  claimed  the  right  of  repre- 
sentation, as  well  as  of  being  governed  by  their  own 
laws;  and  were  occasionally  fined  for  not  attending 
church  on  the  Sabbath.  With  all  this  they  were  hos- 
pitable, brave  and  generous,  though  as  before  hinted, 
they  could  not  forbear  a  fling  at  the  Roundheads,  and 
had  Harold  been  considered  a  permanent  denizen,  he 
would  have  been  placed  in  the  unpleasant  predicament 
of  being  obliged  to  listen  to  the  preaching  of  one  of  the 
"  wolves  in  sheep's  clothing,"  or  suffer  a  fine,  perhaps 
imprisonment.  As  yet  however  he  was  ignorant  of  this 
pleasant  alternative,  and  having  made  acquaintance 
with  some  of  Oliver's  old  soldiers,  who  had  come  over 
at  the  Restoration,  he  by  degrees  grew  more  reconciled 
to  his  new  position,  though  feeling  every  day  the  in- 
conveniences of  having  no  home,  as  well  as  the  anxiety 
of  not  being  able  to  find  one  elsewhere.  The  situation 
of  his  wife  and  daughter  was  still  more  unpleasant, 
particularly  that  of  the  latter.  A  young  unmarried 
damsel  was  a  rara  avis  in  this  portion  of  the  new 
world,  and  Harold  was  several  times  offered  a  hogshead 
of  tobacco  for  Miriam,  by  grave  old  cavaliers,  seeking 
a  helpmate  fot  their  son:?. 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  133 

Under  these  circumstances,  and  influenced,  perhaps, 
by  the  persuasions  of  his  wife  and  daughter,  who  were 
exceedingly  anxious  to  have  a  permanent  home,  he 
at  length  determined  to  purchase  a  plantation,  then 
for  sale,  on  the  south  side  of  the  river,  and  at  the  dis- 
tance of  several  miles  from  the  capital.  Thither  he 
carried  his  family  and  took  up  his  abode,  greatly  to 
the  satisfaction  of  all,  especially  of  old  Mildred,  who 
had  been  more  than  once  hooted  at  by  the  boys,  while 
singing  pious  hymns  at  her  window.  In  the  interim 
of  putting  his  household  in  order,  he  was  hospitably 
received  and  entertained  by  the  proprietor  of  the  ad- 
joining estate,  who  added  to  these  attentions  his  advice 
and  assistance,  with  an  off-hand  frankness  and  liber- 
ality which  seems  a  growth  of  the  soil  of  the  new 
world.  Of  this  gentleman,  it  is  proper  to  say  some- 
thing more  particular,  as  he  will  figure  largely  in  the 
ensuing  narrative. 

The  father  of  Mr.  Hugh  Tyringham,  as  this  gentle- 
man was  called,  was  the  scion  of  a  younger  branch  of 
a  very  ancient  and  noble  family,  that  had  become  illus- 
trious by  changing  sides  some  sixteen  or  eighteen  times 
during  the  wars  of  York  and  Lancaster,  but  withal 
was  much  more  distinguished  for  its  blood  than  its 
money.  For  several  generations,  the  younger  sons  had 
been  compelled  to  live  by  their  sword,  or  their  wits,  as 
the  family  estate  was  barely  sufficient  to  enable  the 
eldest  son  on  whom  it  was  entailed  to  marry  and  keep 
up  the  breed.  In  cases  of  this  kind,  it  is  usual  in  al- 
most all  enlightened  Christian  countries^  to  give  these 


134  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

unlucky  outcasts  who  are  disinherited  by  their  birth 
a  tolerable  education,  and  then  quarter  them  on  the 
country  for  a  maintenance.  Though  deprived  of  their 
share  of  the  family  property,  they  are  welcome  to  the 
family  interest,  which  is  always  zealously  exerted  in 
their  behalf;  and  though  the  fortunate  inheritor  of  the 
estate  is  prohibited  from  selling  any  portion  of  it  to 
benefit  the  unlucky  "  Desdichado"  it  is  said  he  not 
unfrequently  sells  himself  for  that  benevolent  purpose. 
The  father  of  the  gentleman  now  introduced  to  the 
reader  was,  like  his  father  before  him,  a  younger  son, 
and  consequently  destined  to  become  a  protege"  of  his 
country.  He  received  a  good  education,  and  acquired 
the  fashionable  accomplishments  of  the  age,  which  to- 
gether with  a  purse  of  gold,  a  good  steed,  a  competent 
outfit  of  rich  raiment — an  expensive  article  at  that 
time — and  the  parental  blessing,  constituted  his  busi- 
ness capital.  The  court  was  at  that  period  the  great 
point  of  attraction  to  this  species  of  adventurers,  and 
a  handsome  person  the  foundation  of  a  man's  fortune  ; 
his  Majesty  King  James  the  First,  then  on  the  throne, 
as  well  as  his  immediate  predecessor,  being  a  great 
admirer  of  masculine  beauty.  The  young  gentleman 
in  question  possessed  a  face  and  figure  in  the  highest 
degree  attractive,  and  in  the  hope  of  gaining  the 
notice  of  the  King,  bent  his  way  towards  the  seat  of 
honors,  full  of  agreeable  anticipations. 

After  the  manner  of  the  heroes  of  good  old  fairy 
lore,  he  travelled,  and  travelled,  and  travelled,  until 
at  length,  in  due  time,  he  arrived  at  the  court  of  a 


TI1K    Pt  RITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  135 

puissant  monarch,  who  is  said  to  have  had  little  dis- 
cretion and  no  valor ;  and  of  whom  all  our  readers 
have  had  a  full  and  true  account  in  romance,  if  not 
history.  Here  he  fell  into  the  ranks  of  expectancy,  and 
continued  a  long  time  attending  the  motions  of  the 
court  with  unwearied  diligence  and  inexhaustible 
patience,  without  having  had  the  supreme  felicity  of 
being  spoken  to,  or  in  any  way  noticed  by  his  Majesty 
or  his  minions.  By  this  time  both  his  money  and  his 
wardrobe  became  nearly  exhausted,  and  he  was  seri- 
ously meditating  the  alternative  of  entering  into  for- 
eign service,  or  adopting  the  expedient  of  Prince  Hal 
and  his  roystering  companions.  But  those  who  wait 
patiently  the  ebbing  of  the  tide  are  sure  to  float  on 
the  flood  at  last.  And  chance  afforded  what  he  could 
not  obtain  by  seeking. 

Pacing  one  day  in  the  antichamber  of  the  King,  his 
Majesty — who  since  the  Gunpowder  Plot  had  become 
even  more  nervous  than  after  the  Growrie  conspiracy — 
being  alone  in  his  closet,  chancing  to  hear  a  sound 
which  caused  him  to  turn  suddenly  round,  was  so 
grievously  alarmed  at  seeing  the  reflection  of  his  royal 
person  in  a  large  mirror,  that  he  mistook  it  for  an 
assassin,  and  cried  out  for  help  most  lustily.  Master 
Tyringham,  then  under  the  lucky  star,  happened  to 
be  the  first  who  ran  to  the  rescue,  which  he  did,  sword 
in  hand  ;  and  having  through  an  unerring  instinct 
acquired  by  long  residence  at  court,  penetrated  the 
whole  affair,  stoutly  asserted  on  this,  as  well  as  all 
other  occasions,  that,  on  entering  the  closet,  he  had 


136  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

distinctly  seen  a  person  with  a  dagger  vanishing  through 
an  opposite  door. 

This  spirited  exertion  in  behalf  of  the  life  and  honor 
of  his  sovereign,  was  not  without  its  immediate  fruits. 
He  was  taken  into  special  favor,  and  might  in  time 
have  supplanted  Steeney,  if  the  King  had  dared  to 
displace  that  formidable  minion.  His  Majesty  was 
content  for  the  present  to  bestow  on  him  the  high 
responsible  office  of  Gentleman  Sewer,  whose  vocation 
it  was  to  change  the  king's  plate,  and  see  that  he  did 
not  wait  for  that  important  ceremony.  "What  rendered 
this  promotion  the  more  honorable  was,  the  fact  that 
it  had  been  bestowed  in  opposition  to  the  entire  Scot- 
tish influence  at  court,  which  was  rallied  in  behalf 
of  a  nobleman  of  that  country  whose  ancestors  had  bo- 
come  illustrious  from  having  been  one  hundred  and 
sixteen  times  in  arms  against  their  lawful  sovereign. 

Master  Basil  Tyringham  was  thenceforward  consid- 
ered a  rising  man  at  court.  His  personal  comeliness 
and  accomplishments,  added  to  his  high  position  of 
SeAver,  in  due  time  attracted  the  notice,  and  finally 
secured  the  hand  of  one  of  the  Maids  of  Honor,  who 
was  even  more  in  favor  with  the  Queen  than  he  was 
with  the  King,  whose  secret  he  kept  inviolable.  The 
lady  was  of  course  noble,  and  could  trace  her  lineage 
as  high  as  Catharine  Swineford,  and  Joan  Hill,  though 
it  must  be  confessed,  she  valued  herself  much  more 
on  her  paternal  than  maternal  descent.  However  this 
may  be,  a  marriage  took  place,  and  though  neither 
could  boast  of  much  actual  wealth,  they  calculated 


THE    PUUITAN     A\D    HIS    DAUGHTER.  137 

with  certainty  on  the  bounty  of  the  King,  who  wag 
excessively  liberal  of  the  money  of  his  people.  Nor 
were  they  disappointed,  for  on  the  death  of  that  mon- 
arch, they  retired  at  a  respectable  middle  age,  to  a 
competent  estate  in  the  country,  graced  by  a  title. 

As  might  be  supposed  from  his  Norman  extraction, 
which  had  long  since  been  certified  by  Lyon  King-al- 
arms, Lord  Tyringham  was  exceedingly  loyal — first, 
on  the  score  of  descent ;  secondly,  in  virtuo  of  the  high 
office  he  had  held  ;  and  thirdly,  for  the  special  reason 
that  the  King  is  the  fountain  of  all  honors  and  profits. 
The  wise  old  gentleman  at  our  elbow  says  he  has 
invariably  observed  that  the  most  rampant  loyalists 
will  surely  be  found  among  the  tribe  of  petty  officials. 
The  issue  of  this  union,  were  two  sons  and  a  daughter. 
The  destiny  of  the  eldest  son  was  of  course  settled,  by 
the  right  of  primogeniture ;  that  of  the  younger  was 
equally  certain ;  and  the  daughter  was  specially 
brought  up  in  the  conviction  that  her  first  duty  was  to 
practice  "moral  restraint,"  and  marry  for  an  establish- 
'ment,  in  conformity  to  a  long  enduring  and  purely 
aristocratic  custom,  which  hath  descended  to  the  present 
time.  Hastening  over  this  portion  of  our  story,  it  is  only 
necessary  to  state  that  Hugh,  the  aforesaid  younger 
son,  being  predestined  by  Magna  Charter  to  become  a 
national  pauper,  as  his  father  had  been  before  him, 
was  shortly  after  coming  home  from  college,  like  him 
sent  forth  to  carve  his  way  through  life,  under  the 
guidance  of  that  Providence  which  is  said  to  take 
especial  care  of  younger  brothers. 


138  TIIK    rnilTAN    AM)    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

The  troubles  of  Charles  the  First's  reign  had  now 
approached  a  crisis,  and  Hugh  Tyringham,  having  not 
only  a  loyal  father,  but  a  loyal  alma  mater,  proceeded 
to  London,  where,  through  means  of  a  college  ac- 
quaintance, he  was  received  among  that  band  of  young 
men  equally  loyal  and  wild,  which  had  been  drawn 
about  the  palace  of  Whitehall,  under  color  of  protect- 
ing the  King,  but  in  reality,  as  was  surmised,  for  the 
purpose  of  overcoming  the  Parliament.  Here  he  led 
rather  a  disorderly  life,  frequenting  ordinaries  and 
theatres;  gambling  when  he  had  money;  paying  his 
devoirs  to  tradesmen's  wives,  and  quizzing  the  Round- 
heads whenever  opportunity  offered.  The  band  con- 
sisted principally  of  younger  brothers,  of  ancient 
families,  victims  to  the  first-born  of  Egypt,  who  naturally 
fell  into  a  state  of  abject  dependence  on  the  patronage 
of  the  King,  and  became  the  servile  instruments  of 
power.  It  is  these  who  principally  compose  the  officers 
of  European  armies,  and  who,  under  the  respectable 
name  of  loyalty  to  the  King,  become  the  most  inex- 
orable oppressors  of  the  people. 

When  this  association  of  young  sparks  at  Whitehall 
was  broken  up  by  the  jealousy  of  Parliament,  and 
hostilities  had  actually  commenced,  Hugh  joined  a 
troop  of  horse  in  the  service  of  the  King,  and  fought 
manfully  in  his  cause,  until  Old  Ironsides,  and  his 
valiant  psalm  singers,  after  stripping  him  of  his  crown, 
bereft  him  of  the  head  that  wore  it.  By  the  result  of 
the  contest  his  family  was  temporarily  exiled,  and 
himself  left  not  only  entirely  destitute,  but  his  person 


Till:    I'lUiTAN-    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  139 

placed  in  jeopardy.  He  was  fain  to  secrete  himself  in 
the  great  wilderness  of  London,  where,  under  the 
pressure  of  that  iron  necessity  which  is  the  only  poor 
excuse  for  actions  otherwise  inexcusable,  he  lived  in  a 
manner  not  altogether  reputable  in  the  eyes  of  those 
who  are  free  from  similar  temptations.  Still  he  pre- 
served the  stamina  of  a  gentleman  ;  and  though  in 
some  measure  fallen,  never  descended  so  low  as  to  be 
quite  irreclaimable.  He  still  retained  a  distinct  sense 
of  integrity  and  honor,  and  despised  himself  for  what 
rendered  him  despicable  in  the  eyes  of  others.  Above 
all,  he  preserved  his  free  and  generous  spirit  in  the 
midst  of  every  temptation,  and  his  good  qualities  still 
predominated  over  the  exigencies  of  his  situation. 
Though  soiled,  he  was  not  past  washing.  The  stain 
was  not  indelible. 

When  Oliver  Cromwell  assumed  the  Protectorship, 
many  Cavaliers,  despairing  of  the  restoration  of  the 
Stuarts,  and  perhaps  apprehensive  for  their  own 
safety,  turned  their  eyes  towards  Virginia.  Among 
them  was  Master  Hugh  Tyringham,  now  equally  des- 
titute of  fruition  and  hope.  He  applied  to  his  brother, 
who  had  taken  refuge  in  Holland,  and  from  him 
received  a  remittance,  which  barely  enabled  him  to 
fit  himself  out,  and  pay  his  passage  to  the  New  World. 
In  this  adventure  he  was  accompanied  by  a  faithful 
follower,  who  had  attached  himself  to  his  fortunes  in 
early  youth,  and  never  deserted  him  in  their  lowest 
depression,  either  from  real  liking,  or  because  he  did 
not  know  how  to  better  his  fortune. 


140  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

Gregory  Moth,  as  he  was  called,  had  accompanied 
his  master  to  Oxford,  and  acquired  a  smattering  of 
scholarship,  at  least  so  far  as  words  went,  as  well  as 
of  the  fables,  traditions,  and  antiquities  of  that  ancient 
seminary.  He  was  moreover  a  great  wag  in  his  way, 
though  of  infinite  gravity — a  tipler  upon  occasion,  and 
a  coward  always.  He  was  for  ever  anticipating  dan- 
ger, that  he  might  have  an  excuse  for  being  frightened 
without  reason.  Though  he  trembled  at  the  very  idea 
of  crossing  the  ocean,  and  had  an  insurmountable 
antipathy  to  the  "  Salvages,"  as  Captain  John  Smith 
calls  them,  he  was  so  attached  to  his  master,  either 
from  habit  or  inclination,  that  he  finally  made  up  his 
mind  to  accompany  him.  Accordingly,  they  com- 
menced the  voyage  together,  and  after  the  usual  long 
passage  of  those  days,  at  length  launched  on  the  capital 
of  Virginia,  as  helpless  a  pair  of  adventurers  as  ever 
set  foot  on  the  virgin  soil  of  the  new  world. 

Tyringham  however  soon  encountered,  and  was 
welcomed  by  one  two  of  his  associates  in  the  civil  wars 
who  had  preceded  him,  and  introduced  to  some  of  the 
old  settlers.  Being  of  a  fine  person,  genteel  address, 
and  frank,  generous  spirit,  it  was  not  long  ere  he  cap- 
tivated the  affections  of  the  heiress  of  a  goodly  plan- 
tation, a  discreet,  sober,  and  excellent  widow,  not  very 
young,  or  very  accomplished,  but  of  gentle  disposition 
and  great  good  sense.  In  the  dearth  of  females  which 
then  pervaded  the  colony,  this  lady  had  often  been 
wooed  but  never  won,  until  Master  Hugh  Tyringham, 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  141 

according  to  the  phraseology  of  a  lady  of  color  in  the 
family,  "  melted  the  ice  of  her  yellow-baster  heart." 

With  this  excellent  lady,  he  retired  to  the  country, 
to  the  cultivation  of  rural  tastes  and  tobacco.  He 
succeeded  rather  better  in  the  latter  than  the  former  ; 
and  though  liberal  somewhat  beyond  prudence,  found 
himself  waxing  richer  every  revolving  year.  The  first 
question  was  what  to  do  with  his  money,  and  after 
due  consideration,  he  as  usual  determined  to  consult 
Gregory  on  the  subject,  who  had  long  since  become 
his  oracle.  Accordingly,  one  pleasant  evening  as  Mas- 
ter Tyringham  was  sitting,  in  the  philosophic  enjoy- 
ment of  the  "  fragrant  weed,"  on  his  rustic  piazza,  and 
Gregory,  in  order  to  recognize  the  degree  of  precedence 
between  himself  and  his  master,  on  the  lowest  step. — 

"  Moth,"  said  the  old  cavalier — for  he  by  this  time 
was  not  young — "  Moth,"  repeated  he,  puffing  out  a 
cloud  of  smoke,  "  what  think  you  of  my  building  a 
new  house."  He  then  chuckled  a  little,  and  said 
partly  to  himself,  "  I  wonder  what  my  lord  brother 
would  say  if  he  found  me  living  in  a  log  palace.  Moth, 
why  the  plague  don't  you  speak  ?" 

"Master,"  quoth  Gregory,  "you  know  I  never 
speak  without  due  consideration.  I  was  reflecting  on 
the  matter,  and  see  but  one  objection." 

"Hey — what  is  that?" 

"  Why,  sir,  there  is  an  old  proverb  in  the  way." 

"  Hey— what  is  that,  Moth  ?" 

"Why,  sir,  that  fools  build  houses,  and  wise  men 
live  in  them." 


142  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

"  Pfsh!  what  care  I  for  such  musty  old  saws.  Did 
not  King  Solomon  build  him  a  magnificent  house,  and 
send  all  the  way  to  Lebanon  for  the  timber?" 

"  Yea,"  quoth  Gregory,  "  but  I  never  heard  that 
Solomon  was  held  the  wiser  for  it,  any  more  than  for 
having  so  many  wives  and  concubines.  But  there  is 
great  wisdom  in  old  sayings,  master ;  they  are,  as  it 
were,  a  part  of  the  common  law,  inasmuch  as  the 
memory  of  men  runneth  not  beyond  them." 

"  Pooh  !  Knowest  thou  not,  Gregory,  that  what  is 
called  long-established  truth,  is  often  nothing  more 
than  grey-beard  falsehood  consecrated  by  time  ?  But 
a  truce  with  your  proverbs.  I  say  I  am  resolved  to 
build  a  new  house." 

"Well  then,  master  of  mine,  I  see  no  use  in  ask- 
ing my  opinion." 

"  But  I  want  your  opinion  as  to  what  kind  of  a 
house  it  shall  be.  I  suppose  you  can  give  me  that." 

"  0,  if  that's  the  object,  sir ;  well,  you  know  there 
are  divers  sorts  of  houses,  to  wit,  the  aulae  lapidae, 
the  aulae  plombeae  ;  the  aulae  vitrae ;  the  aulae 
cum  camino  ;  and  the  aulae  cum  stramine  coopertae — 
whereof  the  first  is  of  stone,  the  second  of  lead,  the 
third  of  glass,  the  fourth  hath  a  chimney,  and  the 
fifth  is  thatched  with  straw.  You  can  take  your  choice, 
sir." 

"  But  I  want  your  opinion,  I  tell  you." 

"Well,  sir,  if  I  were  in  your  place,  I  would  not 
build  a  stone  house,  because  there  is  no  stone  within 
fifty  miles — nor  a  leaden  house,  because  the  first  In- 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  143 

dian  war  that  happens,  it  would  be  run  into  bullets — 
nor  a  glass  house,  because  there  are  things  occur  in 
all  houses  that  ought  not  to  be  seen  by  everybody — 
nor  a  house  with  a  chimney,  because  two  are  much 
better — lastly,  sir,  I  would  by  no  means  have  you 
build  a  straw  house,  inasmuch  as  you  are  continually 
stumbling  over  single  straws,  and  would  certainly  break 
your  nose  over  a  straw  house." 

"Moth;  do  you  know  I've  a  great  mind  to  send 
you  on  the  expedition  fitting  out  against  the  Indians. 
They  are  in  great  want  of  men,  and  you  will  be  a 
host.  If  I  can't  get  anything  out  of  you,  the  colony 
may." 

This  insinuation  acted  instantaneously  on  the  nerves 
of  Master  Gregory,  who  exclaimed  in  a  paroxysm  of 
fear — "  For  Heaven's  sake,  master,  what  put  that  in 
your  head  ?  What  have  I  said  or  done  that  you  should 
condemn  me  to  be  roasted  alive,  as  I  certainly  shall  be 
if  I  go  out  against  the  pagan  salvages.  What  was  it 
you  wished  to  get  out  of  me,  sir  ?" 

"Why  your  opinion  about  the  house,  confound  you. 
I  don't  want  to  know  what  house  I  ought  not  to  build, 
but  what  will  be  best." 

"0,  is  that  all?  Why  then  I  should  advise  you, 
sir,  to  build  a  wooden  house,  because  there  is  plenty 
of  timber  near  at  hand,  and  your  new  saw  mill  will 
supply  boards." 

"  Gregory,"  quoth  Mr.  Tyringham,  "  you're  a 
perfect  oracle.  The  house  shall  be  of  wood,  I  am  de- 
termined, and  now  I  will  go  and  consult  Mistress  Ty- 


144  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

ringham."  He  did  so,  and  as  that  good  lady  never 
opposed  him,  when  he  was  in  the  right — an  example 
earnestly  recommended  to  all  discreet  wives  —  the 
wooden  house  was  commenced  on  a  great  scale  for  the 
new  world  and  finished  in  due  time,  to  the  satisfaction 
of  all  concerned.  The  building  of  the  house  was  fol- 
lowed by  the  birth  of  a  son,  who  was  fast  verging  to 
manhood,  and  in  his  own  opinion  already  a  man,  at 
the  period  when  Harold  Habingdon  took  possession  of 
the  adjoining  plantation.  Having  thus  brought  the 
Cavalier  and  the  Roundhead  together,  we  shall  proceed 
straightforward  in  our  journey,  without  once  looking 
behind. 

Seldom  have  two  men  been  brought  together  into 
close  contact  with  more  points  of  dissimilarity  than 
Harold  Harbin gdon  and  Hugh  Ty ringham ;  and  though 
the  latter  with  the  spontaneous  generosity  that  marked 
his  character  had  tendered  the  new  comer  his  house, 
his  advice,  and  his  services,  it  was  next  to  impossible, 
considering  the  bitter  prejudices  subsisting  between 
the  Cavaliers  and  Roundheads  which  were  as  yet  un- 
mitigated by  time,  that  they  should  ever  become  friends. 
Both  religion  and  politics  forbade  ;  and  though  oil  and 
vinegar  are  found  to  mingle  together  harmoniously  in 
the  latter,  yet  has  it  unhappily  been  but  too  often  de- 
monstrated that  religious  antipathies,  like  those  of  na- 
ture, are  seldom  reconciled.  The  stern  and  self-suffi- 
cient pride  of  human  opinion  seems  more  inflexible 
here  than  elsewhere,  and  that  which  teaches  humil- 
ity becomes  a  source  of  arrogant  intolerance. 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  145 

To  do  the  two  gentlemen  justice,  they  did  not  fall 
out  at  the  first  encounter,  nor  during  the  brief  sojourn 
of  Harold  with  the  gay  Cavalier,  who  made  it  a  part 
of  his  creed  never  to  affront  a  guest,  even  though  he 
refused  to  pledge  him  in  a  bumper.  Yet  it  cannot  be 
denied,  that  a  solid  foundation  was  laid  at  this  early 
period  for  a  long  series  of  suffering  to  those  they  loved 
best  on  earth.  Tyringham  was  the  embodiment  of  a 
sentiment  which  seems  almost  extinct  at  the  present 
time,  when  the  feeling  of  loyalty  to  kings,  which  was 
rather  a  slavish  principle,  has  been  almost  superseded 
by  the  more  enlarged  and  manly  one  of  patriotism. 
Harold — doubtless  stimulated  by  the  plebeian  blood 
that  contaminated  his  veins — on  the  contrary  was  a 
republican.  One  was  high  church  ;  the  other  ab- 
horred the  prelacy,  and  was,  in  truth,  as  much  of  a 
democrat  in  religion  as  politics.  Without  entering 
into  more  minute  chemical  antipathies,  it  will  readily 
be  seen  that  here  were  fruitful  sources  of  discussion 
on  points  which  almost  invariably  end  in  contention 
and  dislike.  As  almost  every  man  has  an  opinion  of 
his  own,  it  is  a  great  pity  he  is  not  willing  to  allow 
the  like  privilege  to  others. 

Still,  however,  the  two  neighbors  being  the  only 
settlers  within  a  distance  of  several  miles,  continued 
for  some  time  to  hold  a  lazy,  indifferent  sort  of  inter- 
course with  each  other,  and  to  exchange  the  offices 
of  good  neighborhood.  The  only  son  of  the  Cavalier 
and  the  only  daughter  of  the  Puritan  were  thus  occa- 
sionally brought  together,  but  to  all  appearance  took 
7 


146  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

no  special  note  of  each  other.  There  was  not  much 
difference  in  their  ages,  but  a  total  dissimilarity  of  dis- 
position. Miriam  Habingdon  resembled  her  father  in 
the  staid  sobriety  of  his  outward  deportment,  as  well 
as  in  the  deep  fervor  of  his  inward  feelings,  and  her 
mother  in  her  plaintive  voice  and  gentle  bearing.  She 
was  naturally  full  of  poetic  feeling  ;  but  both  the  pre- 
cepts and  example  of  her  father  had  taught  her  to 
limit  her  enthusiasm  to  piety  alone.  For  aught  that 
appeared  otherwise,  all  her  feelings  were  concentrated 
in  filial  duty  and  profound  devotion.  Her  reading  had 
been  almost  entirely  confined  to  the  Bible  and  books 
of  a  serious  cast ;  and  her  language  had  acquired 
much  of  that  apostolic  simplicity  which  would  indeed 
seem  inspiration,  since  it  baffles  all  attempts  at  imita- 
tion. Like  her  mother,  her  appearance  was  not  strik- 
ing at  first ;  but  the  oftener  she  was  seen  the  more  she 
gained  on  the  eye  and  the  heart,  even  of  those  who 
were  in  some  measure  steeled  by  long  cherished 
prejudices.  Her  approaches  were  slow  but  sure  ;  like 
the  bee,  she  gathered  her  honey  almost  imperceptibly, 
and  what  she  gained,  she  scarcely  ever  lost.  Her 
voice  has  already  been  commemorated,  and  was  so 
musical  that  good  nurse  Mildred  solemnly  declared 
that  she  had  rather  listen  to  it  than  to  a  sermon  ;  and 
Gregory  Moth,  though  he  always  called  her  the  Crop- 
ear  young  lady,  more  than  once  assured  Master 
Langley  Tyringham,  that  were  he  buried  under  the 
Polar  Sea,  the  very  sound  of  her  voice  would  melt  him, 
even  as  a  Virginia  dog-day.  Miriam  too  had  wit ;  but 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  147 

it  was  a  melancholy  wit,  which  is  said  to  be  far  more 
dangerous  than  a  merry  one. 

Master  Langley  Tyringham,  though  not  quite  of 
age,  and  an  only  child,  was  yet  a  man  in  thought,  har- 
dihood and  daring.  Though  brought  up  in  the  woods, 
he  was  not  to  be  scared  by  an  owl ;  and  though  no 
great  scholar,  his  faculties  had  been  awakened, 
schooled  and  matured,  by  dangers  and  vicissitudes. 
From  his  first  breath  of  life,  he  had  been  surrounded 
by  savages,  whose  friendship  was  as  precarious  as 
their  enmity  was  active  and  terrible.  His  father  lived 
at  the  very  outskirts  of  civilization,  and  was  obliged 
to  be  his  own  protector  as  well  as  avenger.  In  his 
very  childhood  he  had  once  been  seized  by  an  Indian 
while  playing  on  the  verge  of  a  wood  near  the  house, 
who  was  making  off  with  him,  when  he  was  shot  by 
the  father,  and  instantly  killed.  Tradition  says  that 
the  stout  little  fellow  neither  shed  a  tear  or  uttered  a 
cry  on  this  occasion,  but  kicked,  scratched  and  strug- 
gled manfully.  He  handled  the  rifle  like  a  backwoods- 
man ;  guided  his  boat  on  the  river  with  the  dexterity 
of  an  Indian ;  tracked  the  wild  deer  with  the  instinct 
of  a  hound ;  and  took  the  lead  on  all  occasions  in 
those  rural  sports  which  at  this  period  were  accompa- 
nied by  perpetual  exposures  and  dangers.  Though  not 
accomplished  according  to  the  acceptation  of  this  age, 
he  was  by  no  means  ignorant  or  unlettered.  He  had 
for  his  instructor  Gregory  Moth,  who  boasted  of  being 
an  Oxford  scholar,  and  who  had  indeed  managed  to 
scrape  together,  by  hook  or  by  crook,  from  that  vast 


148  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

pile  of  accumulated  learning,  where  so  many  bring 
contributions  and  carry  nothing  away,  a  modicum  of 
scholarship  that  might  almost  pass  muster  at  a  college 
examination.  His  father,  also,  who,  when  he  brushed 
off  a  little  of  the  rust  of  time,  was  by  no  means  defi- 
cient in  general  intelligence,  paid  no  little  attention  to 
his  progress  in  learning.  Though  of  a  figure  like  that 
of  Apollo,  or  an  Indian,  he  would  not  have  made  a  very 
brilliant  debut  at  a  modern  fashionable  assemblage  ; 
but  in  all  those  qualities,  moral,  intellectual,  and 
physical,  which  give  one  man  superiority  over  another 
in  the  stern  and  trying  warfare  of  the  world,  and  in 
times  of  suffering  or  danger  make  him  the  master 
of  his  fellows,  our  hero — for  such  he  is — was  liberally 
gifted.  In  short,  he  was  the  very  man  for  a  new  world 
and  a  free  country. 

The  gentle  and  courteous  reader,  who  hath  doubtless 
had  his  perceptions  brought  to  so  fine  an  edge  by  a 
constant  study  of  cheap  literature,  that  he  can  smell 
a  rat  where  there  is  not  a  mouse  stirring,  will  assuredly 
have  anticipated  our  future  disclosures  by  pronouncing 
at  once  that  the  two  young  persons,  just  sketched,  are, 
long  before  this  time,  in  love  to  distraction,  and  that 
the  secret  is  just  about  being  formally  disclosed.  But 
he  is  quite  out  in  his  reckoning,  and  had  better  be 
quiet  until  he  knows  what  he  is  talking  about.  The 
two  young  people  are  not  in  love  with  each  other,  nor 
shall  they  be  until  it  is  our  good  pleasure  to  make 
them  so.  It  is  a  sin  and  a  shame  that  an  author  can- 
not be  allowed  to  keep  his  own  secrets  till  he  sees 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  149 

proper  to  disclose  them,  and  that  some  prying,  disagree- 
able reader — not  one  of  ours,  of  course — will  always  be 
putting  in  his  oar,  and  plumping  the  boat  high  and 
dry  ashore,  when,  in  fact,  the  pains-taking  author  is 
not  yet  half  through  the  voyage,  thus  bringing  his 
work  to  an  untimely  end,  by  satiating  the  reader's 
appetite  before  he  has  half  finished  his  dinner.  We 
hereby  pledge  ourselves  that  this  young  couple  did  not 
fall  in  love  at  first,  or  second,  sight.  Miriam  shrunk 
from  the  high  spirits  and  frank  deportment  of  Langley, 
while  he  felt  chilled,  if  not  repelled,  by  what  he  con- 
sidered the  stiff,  cold,  and  distant  reception  he  always 
received  from  Miriam.  It  was  ten  to  one  they  would 
soon  dislike  each  other  heartily,  unless  some  unex- 
pected obstacle  presented  itself  to  their  intercourse ; 
for  as  the  thunderstorm  approaches  apparently  against 
the  wind,  so  do  the  passions  of  the  human  race 
strengthen  by  opposition,  and  expend  themselves 
with  greater  force  when  that  opposition  is  overcome. 

In  the  meantime,  the  coolness  between  the  Cavalier 
and  the  Roundhead  gradually  approached  the  freezing 
point.  Tt  was  not  as  yet  exhibited  in  any  sudden  out- 
break of  spleen,  or  exemplified  by  any  overt  act.  It 
matured  by  degrees,  and  became  more  inflexible,  as 
well  as  lasting,  from  the  slowness  of  its  growth.  It 
was  not  active  hatred,  but  passive,  inveterate  dislike. 
There  was  not  only  conflicting  opinions  and  prejudices, 
but  opposite  habits  to  encounter ;  and  these  last  are  by 
far  the  most  difficult  to  reconcile.  The  stiff  sobriety, 
colloquial  precision,  and  staid  abstinence  of  Harold,  ill 


150  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER 

suited  with  the  frank  speech  and  manners,  or  the 
!  convivial  habits  of  the  Cavalier,  who  swore  he  could 
never  elevate  the  Crop-ear  one  degree  above  zero,  and 
•who  cherished  a  sovereign  contempt  for  a  fellow  who 
had  so  little  of  the  spirit  of  good-fellowship  in  him, 
that  he  would  not  drink  a  glass  of  wine  with  a  friend, 
even  against  his  conscience. 

Two  events  happened  about  this  period,  which  con- 
tributed to  bring  about  a  non-intercourse  between  the 
two  neighbors.  In  a  little  skirmish  that  took  place  at 
an  accidental  meeting,  on  the  subject  of  the  Prelacy, 
Harold  had  roundly  asserted  that  the  mitre  of  the 
bishops  was  a  Pagan  device,  borrowed  from  the  high- 
priest  of  ancient  Rome.  The  Cavalier,  who,  it  must 
be  acknowledged,  was  more  zealous  than  pious,  took 
fire  at  this  attack  on  the  hierarchy,  and  covenanted 
with  himself  that  he  would  cut  the  Crop-ear  out  and 
out,  from  that  time  forward.  But  the  holidays  were 
new  approaching,  and  softened  by  the  benign  and  jolly 
influence  of  that  beneficent  saint  who  presides  over 
the  season  of  good  wishes,  good  things,  and  good 
fellowship,  the  Cavalier  sent  Harold  a  frank,  cordial 
invitation  to  meet  a  few  friends  from  the  capital  at  a 
Christmas  dinner.  The  invitation  was  promptly 
declined,  with  the  additional  offence  of  a  slur  on 
Christmas  festivities,  which,  being  of  Pagan  origin, 
Harold  denounced  as  unworthy  of  Christians.  This 
was  not  very  polite;  but  zeal  often  gets  the  better 
of  good  manners. 

The  Cavalier  was  a  great  lover  of  holidays,  which, 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  151 

he  maintained,  were  invented  on  purpose  to  afford 
occasional  opportunities  for  the  poor  to  eat,  drink,  and 
be  merry.  Especially  did  he  delight  in  the  hilarity 
of  the  little  children  on  these  occasions,  and  the 
obstreperous  jollity  of  his  colored  dependents,  who 
managed  to  crowd  into  a  small  compass  as  much 
enjoyment  as  would  sprinkle  a  whole  life  of  those  whose 
sole  employment  is  hunting  it  throughout  the  world. 
Neither  did  he  like  holidays  the  less,  that  they  gave 
him  a  fair  opportunity  of  indulging  his  own  convivial 
propensities,  by  gathering  a  few  of  his  old  cronies 
about  him  from  the  capital,  and  feasting  them  royally. 
He  was  therefore  highly  indignant  at  Harold's  refusal, 
and  especially  resented  his  reflections  on  the  venerable 
Christmas  holidays.  As  he  complained  that  he  never 
could  stimulate  his  wife  to  sympathize  in  his  extem- 
pore bursts  of  indignation,  it  was  his  custom  on  all 
such  occasions  to  summon  Gregory  Moth,  who,  either 
from  long  and  faithful  services,  or  through  the  influ- 
ence which  the  air  of  the  new  world  seems  to  exercise 
over  all  those  who  breathe  it  for  any  length  of  time, 
had  of  late  been  admitted  to  a  reasonable  degree 
of  equality,  and  aspired  to  that  freedom  of  speech 
which  is  held  the  birthright  of  Americans. 

"  Plague  take  that  impenetrable  Roundhead,"  said 
Master  Tyringham,  to  Gregory,  who  was  seldom  far 
from  his  master;  "he  will  neither  eat,  drink,  or  be 
merry  ;  and  what  is  such  a  man  good  for,  I  should 
like  to  know.  It  will  take  ten  summers  in  Virginia 


152  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

to  thaw  him.     What    shall    I   do  with  the   fellow? 
Call  him  out — hey  ?" 

"  Sir  Master,"  quoth  Gregory,  "  logically  speaking, 
before  I  undertake  to  advise  you  what  to  do,  it  is 
manifestly  expedient  for  me  to  know  what  has  been 
done  unto  you." 

"  Why  the  psalm-singing  curmudgeon  has  not  only 
refused  to  dine  with  me  at  Christmas,  but  insists  that 
keeping  Christmas  is  a  Pagan  custom  altogether  un- 
seemly in  Christians.  What  think  you  of  such  a 
fellow— eh  ?" 

"  Why,  sir,  logically  speaking — " 

"  0  confound  your  logic.  If  you  will  speak,  say 
something  to  the  purpose." 

"  Well,  sir,  syllogistically  speaking — " 

"  'Slife,  Gregory,  what  has  a  Roundhead  to  do  with 
syllogisms.  I  want  your  advice  as  to  how  I  shall 
manage  this  two-legged  cabbage,  who,  I  verily  believe, 
vegetates  against  his  conscience." 

"  Well,  sir,  how  can  I  give  my  opinion  of  a  single 
individual  without  first  denning  the  species  ?  And 
how  can  I  define  the  species  except  logically  or  syl- 
logistically ?  You  might  as  well  judge  of  a  goose  by 
its  feathers." 

"  Well — well — I  know  you  are  an  obstinate  ass, 
with  ears  only  the  longer  from  having  brayed  against 
the  outside  of  a  college.  You  make  as  great  a  display 
of  your  shreds  and  patches  as  others  do  of  a  whole 
suit.  But  proceed,  either  logically  or  syllogistically, 
just  as  you  please  ;  and  as  I  perceive  very  clearly  you 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  153 

are  going  to  make  a  speech  as  long  as  a  Roundhead's 
prayer,  I  will  light  my  pipe  and  take  a  seat  under  this 
tree.  Proceed,  sir." 

"  Well,  sir,"  replied  the  other,  taking  his  seat  on 
the  green  sward,  "  in.  order  to  define  what  man 
really  is,  it  is  proper  and  right,  nay,  absolutely  neces- 
sary, that  we  should  go  to  the  fountain-head.  I  will 
therefore,  begin  with  Adam." 

"  The  Devil  you  will !"  cried  Master  Tyringham, 
taking  the  pipe  from  his  mouth,  and  puffing  out  a 
cloud  of  smoke — pfew  !  "  But  pray  proceed,  Master 
Gregory,  with  your  infernal  logic." 

"  Infernal  logic,  sir  ?  Why,  Master,  the  excellence 
of  logic  is  such  as  cannot  be  expressed  in  words,  con- 
veyed by  signs,  or  embodied  in  thought.  It  is  a  net 
that  no  man  can  escape,  a  cobweb  from  which  no  fly 
can  disentangle  himself.  It  muzzles  the  mouth  of 
ignorance,  silences  the  chattering  of  fancy,  and  chokes 
a  wild  boar — " 

"  Chokes  a  wild  boar  ?"  exclaimed  Master  Tyring- 
ham. "  How  do  you  make  that  out,  Gregory  ?" 

"  As  thus,  sir,  logically.  It  is  authentically  de- 
livered by  tradition,  which  being  the  father  of  history, 
is  therefore  more  venerable  and  infallible,  that  a 
scholar  of  Oxford,  in  days  when  wild  boars  came  to 
college,  I  don't  mean,  sir,  that  they  studied,  or  took 
their  degrees,  as  A.  B.,  A.  M.,  LL.D.,  and  such  like, 
but  when  they  prowled  about,  shortly  after  King  Brute 
and  his  valiant  Trojans  laid  the  foundation  of  the  first 
college  at  Oxford." 


154  THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS    DAUGHTER. 

"  Well,  get  on  with  your  story,  and  have  done  with 
these  old  greybeard  tales." 

"As  I  was  saying,  sir,  a  scholar  of  Oxford,  having 
retired  to  a  neighboring  forest  to  pursue  his  studies, 
was  surprised  and  sorely  beleaguered  by  a  huge  wild 
boar,  the  which  he  finally  utterly  discomfited  by 
thrusting  a  volume  of  Aristotle  down  his  throat,  which 
choked  him  incontinently." 

"Faith,  Gregory,  I  don't  wonder  at  it.  I  was 
nearly  choked  in  the  same  way  myself.  But  to  the 
point.  I  desire  to  know  what  I  am  to  do  with  the 
Roundhead." 

"  Very  well,  Master,  to  proceed  logically,  though  I 
don't  hold  it  absolutely  necessary,  yet  it  appears  to  me 
quite  indispensable — " 

"  Hem,"  quoth  Mr.  Tyringham. 

"  That  we  should  go  a  little  beyond  Adam,  whereby 
we  shall  be  the  better  able  to  tell  what  man  is,  by 
defining  what  he  is  not,  for,  as  Aristotle  says,  your 
negatives  are  sometimes  more  potent  than  your  affirm- 
atives, especially  when  they  hunt  in  couples.  If  you 
please  then,  sir,  we  will  begin  at  the  creation  of  the 
world." 

Here  Master  Tyringham  leaned  back  against  the 
tree,  and  shut  his  eyes,  probably  that  he  might  see 
the  clearer  into  Gregory's  logic. 

"  I  remember,  sir,"  continued  Master  Moth,  "  there 
was  in  our  time  a  great  dispute  concerning  the  ques- 
tion whether  or  not  the  world  ever  had  a  beginning, 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  155 

and  that  one  learned  professor  lost  his  wits  in  seeking 
a  solution.     But  however  that  may  be — " 

Here  Gregory  observed  his  master  beginning  to  nod, 
and  that  his  pipe  was  very  near  scorching  the  flaps  of 
his  waistcoat,  whereupon  he  essayed  to  wake  him  by 
crying  out,  in  a  loud  voice,  "  For  my  part,  sir,  I  have 
a  sort  of  disagreeing  consent  to  this  theory,  and  think 
I  can  see  in  the  perspicuous  cloud  of  human  reason  a 
clear  way  to  get  into  insurmountable  difficulty  by 
striving  to  get  out  of  it.  I  will  therefore  whisper  in 
a  loud  voice  and  be  silent,  in  order  that  I  may  pene- 
trate the  deep  shallowness  of  my  hearer." 

"  What's  that  yon  are  saying  ?"  quoth  Master  Tyr- 
ingham,  rubbing  his  eyes.  "  Deep  shallowness — how 
can  that  be,  you  blockhead  ?  It  is  downright  contra- 
diction— a  logical  paradox." 

"  By  your  leave,  sir,"  answered  Gregory,  "  there 
is  nothing  so  apposite  to  the  illustration  of  a  logical 
truth,  as  direct  opposites,  whereby  we  the  more  clearly 
discern  the  exact  likeness  of  a  thing  by  seeing  some- 
thing as  unlike  it  as  possible :  just  as  we  become  the 
more  sensible  of  the  presence  of  ghosts  by  their  being 
invisible." 

"  Very  well — that  will  do,  Gregory,"  said  his  mas- 
ter, interrupting  him,  "I  understand  a  Roundhead 
perfectly.  Please  to  take  the  boat  and  catch  a  stur- 
geon for  dinner.  You  will  doubtless  succeed  best 
among  the  deep  shallows  of  the  river." 

Gregory  departed  well  pleased  that  he  had  indulged 
his  humor,  and  what,  indeed,  was  his  principal  object 


156  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

in  all  such  discussions,  gained  time  for  his  master's 
choler  to  evaporate,  which  it  did  very  soon,  for  though 
quick  to  anger,  like  his  own  trusty  rifle,  he  cooled 
immediately,  the  moment  he  had  discharged  his  load. 
The  Cavalier  called  for  his  horse,  and  proceeded,  as 
was  his  daily  custom,  on  a  tour  of  inspection  over  his 
plantation,  which  was  some  miles  about.  For  this  he 
had  two  very  rational  objects  ;  the  first  to  see  how 
matters  were  going  on  with  the  tobacco  ;  the  second 
to  get  an  appetite  for  dinner,  which,  however  it  may 
be  despised  by  sentimentalists,  is  by  no  means  to  be 
contemned  by  philosophers.  He  who  cannot  relish  his 
dinner,  can  scarcely  relish  anything  else  ;  and  the 
man  who  can  enjoy  his  meals  and  sleep  soundly  at 
night,  must  not  only  possess  good  health,  but  be 
blessed  with  a  clear  conscience— or  none  at  all. 

As  usual  in  these  peregrinations,  he  encountered  his 
overseer,  with  whom  he  consulted,  and  to  whom  he 
gave  his  advice  on  various  matters,  about  which  he 
knew  little  or  nothing.  The  overseer  informed  him, 
among  other  things,  he  had  that  morning  heard  a  ru- 
mor that  the  Roanoke  Indians — a  tribe  once  reputed 
to  speak  Welsh,  were  meditating  an  incursion  towards 
Powhatan  River,  and  advised  the  necessary  precautions 
to  guard  against  surprise.  These  Indians  had  not 
long  ago  smoked  the  Calumet  with  the  Governor  ;  but 
mutual  suspicions,  mutual  apprehensions,  mutual  ag- 
gressions, and  long  cherished  recollections  of  past  inju- 
ries, rendered  it  exceedingly  difficult,  if  not  impossible, 
to  maintain  a  lasting  good  understanding  between  the 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  157 

Redman  and  the  white.  At  this  distant  period  of  time, 
it  is  useless  to  inquire,  and  perhaps  impossible  to 
ascertain  in  all  cases,  which  was  to  blame,  or  which 
most  to  be  blamed.  Both  parties  feared  each  other, 
and  fear  is  the  parent  of  hatred.  In  this,  as  in  many 
other  cases,  a  looker-on  is  not  the  best  judge.  He 
may  see,  but  cannot  feel  the  most ;  and  to  decide  this 
question,  the  umpire  should  be  placed  in  the  same 
situation  with  the  early  pioneers  of  the  new  world.  It 
is  not  to  be  settled  in  the  peaceful  chimney  corner,  by 
pious  old  ladies,  or  universal  philanthropists.  On  his 
way  home,  the  Cavalier,  forgetting  his  late  affront, 
called  on  Harold,  to  give  him  warning  that  he  might 
be  prepared  for  what  should  happen.  But  that  gentle- 
man, having  not  yet  realized  the  obligations  imposed 
on  him  by  his  new  situation,  and  the  absolute  neces- 
sity that  any  man  should  become  not  only  his  own 
defender,  but  the  protector  of  others,  talked  about  the 
abstract  principles  of  justice  ;  and  losing  sight  of  the 
great  law  of  self-defence,  declined  to  take  any  measures 
for  that  purpose,  as  it  went  against  his  conscience.  He 
had  never  injured  the  savages,  nor  had  they  ever 
injured  him,  and  he  relied  on  Providence  alone  for 
protection. 

"  Master  Habingdon,"  said  Tyringham,  with  em- 
phatic seriousness,  "  I  am  a  magistrate,  and  it  is  my 
duty  to  see  the  laws  executed,  most  especially  those 
necessary  to  the  safety  of  life  and  property.  Among 
these  is  one  which  makes  it  incumbent  on  every  male 
member  of  the  community,  not  disqualified  by  age  or 


158  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

infancy  to  bear  arms,  and  be  ready  at  a  moment's 
warning,  to  defend  himself  and  protect  others.  Now, 
sir,  however  contrary  it  may  be  to  my  feelings  as  a 
neighbor,  I  am  bound  by  my  oath  of  office,  to  see  that 
all  do  their  utmost  in  time  of  danger,  and  I  shall  be 
obliged  to  enforce  the  law  against  you,  in  the  event  of 
an  inroad  of  the  savages.  Until  then,  I  will  shut  my 
eyes  and  say  nothing,  in  hopes  that  you  will  think  bet- 
ter of  it." 

"Master  Tyringham,"  replied  Harold,  stiffly,  "I 
always  act  from  principle,  leaving  it  to  Providence  to 
shape  the  consequences.  From  all  I  can  learn,  these 
wild  men  of  the  woods  have  been  treated  harshly  and 
unjustly,  and  if  we  suffer  for  it,  I  conceive  it  is  only  a 
salutary  atonement.  I  should  scruple  to  shed  blood  in 
a  cause  like  this." 

"  After  shedding  it  in  the  cause  of  rebellion,  sir" — 
said  the  other,  "  I  should  suppose  you  might  be  less 
scrupulous.  The  man  who  has  drawn  his  sword 
against  his  king,  need  not  shrink  from  employing  it 
against  his  enemies." 

"  Master  Tyringham,  you  and  I  differ  so  widely  on 
this  subject,  that  argument  is  useless.  You  are  under 
my  roof,  sir,  and  came  here  on  a  friendly  errand.  I 
cannot  forget  what  I  owe  you  as  a  guest,  and  I  expect 
you  to  remember  what  is  due  to  me  as  your  host." 

The  blood  of  the  Cavalier  was  roused,  and  that  of 
Harold,  with  all  his  self-command,  tingled  in  his  veins, 
for  the  slur  of  rebellion  against  a  cause  he  still  held 
sacred,  was  a  bitter  pill.  Many  keen  passes  took 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  159 

place  between  them,  and  they  parted  worse  friends 
than  they  met. 

The  old  Cavalier  had  scarcely  issued  from  the  pre- 
mises of  the  Roundhead,  when  he  met  young  Master 
Langley,  riding  that  way,  as  if  intending  a  visit,  and 
somewhat  testily  desired  him  to  turn  to  the  right 
about  and  go  with  him.  As  they  proceeded  home- 
wards, he  repeated  what  he  had  heard  concerning  the 
savages,  and  being  too  impatient  to  enter  on  the  par- 
ticulars of  his  interview  with  Harold,  abruptly  desired 
him,  in  a  tone  not  to  be  misunderstood,  to  desist  in 
future  from  all  intercourse  with  a  person  who  had 
bore  arms  against  his  lawful  sovereign,  yet  scrupled 
to  do  so  in  defence  of  his  wife,  his  family,  his  neigh- 
bors and  his  country. 

Now  be  it  known,  that  Langley  Tyringham  cared 
not  a  rush  for  the  family  of  the  Roundheads,  male  or 
female,  and  cherished  a  positive  antipathy  to  old  Mil- 
dred, who  had  divers  times  put  herself  in  his  way  and 
attempted  to  convert  him.  He  particularly  disliked 
the  stiff,  starched  manners  of  Harold ;  knew  little  of 
his  wife  whom  he  seldom  saw ;  and,  though  some- 
times struck  with  the  eloquent  simplicity  of  Miriam's 
words,  the  gentle  melody  of  her  voice,  and  the  har- 
mony of  her  face  and  person,  never  failed  in  the  end  to 
be  repelled  by  the  staid,  sober  gravity  of  her  manners. 
If  left  to  himself,  or  if  accident  had  decreed  they 
should  meet  no  more,  it  is  probable  he  might  never 
have  thought  of  her  again.  As  it  was,  he  bowed  in 
submission  to  the  will  of  his  father,  deciding  at  the 


160  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

same  time  in  his  own  mind,  that  the  good  gentleman 
was  a  little  unreasonable. 

When  alone  he  recurred  to  the  subject  again,  and 
after  long  cogitation  as  to  what  special  reason  his 
father  had  to  establish  this  system  of  non-intercourse, 
at  length  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  was  under 
serious  apprehension,  that  himself  and  Miriam  either 
had,  or  were  about  to  fall  in  love  with  each  other. 
There  was  something  most  mischievously  titillating  in 
the  idea  and  its  consequences ;  he  thought  a  good  deal 
about  it  that  night,  fell  asleep,  and  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life  dreamed  of  Miriam. 


CHAPTER     VII. 

Rights  of  Authors — "Wisdom  of  Gregory  Moth — The  Author  Reminded 
of  One  of  his  Heroines — Something  that  May  peradventure  Give 
Offence  to  Nine-tenths  of  Our  Readers — Little  Miriam  Habingdon 
Hunts  up  an  Excitement — An  Accidental  Meeting — A  Parting — 
Langley  Tyringham  Calls  Names. 

EVERY  writer  of  a  romance  has  an  undoubted  right  to 
tell  his  own  story,  in  his  own  way,  at  his  own  peril. 
Some  gallop,  some  trot,  some  creep  along  like  a  snail 
with  his  house  on  his  back,  and  some  stop  so  often  by 
the  road-side,  that  the  gentle  reader  is  out  of  all 
patience.  Some  are  in  such  a  violent  hurry  that  they 
crowd  the  incidents  pell-mell  together  in  most  inex- 
tricable disorder,  without  connexion  or  explanation  ; 
others  are  so  careful  in  preparing  the  way  for  what 
follows,  that  the  reader  forgets  what  went  before,  and 
anticipates  what  is  coming  after,  very  often  with  more 
certainty  than  the  author.  Some  are  of  such  ineffa- 
ble modesty  that  they  never  venture  to  appear  in  their 
own  proper  persons,  except,  perhaps,  in'  the  title  page 
or  preface  ;  while  others  are  so  fond  of  hearing  them- 
selves talk,  that  they  are  very  apt  to  prose  the  reader 
to  sleep.  Some  seem  to  think  that  a  rapid,  unceasing 
succession  of  incident  is  indispensable  to  keep  the 


162  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

reader  awake  ;  while  others,  on  the  contrary,  consider 
their  own  thoughts  so  much  better  than  the  actions  of 
other  people,  that  they  are  perpetually  intruding  their 
individual  tastes,  opinions,  and  feelings,  forgetting  that 
the  generality  of  mankind  are  so  egotistical  them- 
selves, that  they  can't  endure  the  egotism  of  others. 

Action,  nr  incident,  is  undoubtedly  one  of  the  main 
props  of  fictitious  narrative,  and  hence  every  writer  of 
romance  should  pay  special  attention  to  that  point. 
If  he  finds  his  fancy,  invention,  or  memory  deficient,  in 
this  indispensable  material,  he  must  then  resort  to 
talking,  and  set  his  actors  to  making  long  speeches,  or 
he  must  become  philosophical  and  aspire  to  the  dignity 
of  teaching.  It  sometimes  doubtless  happens,  that  the 
author  has  plenty  of  incidents  on  hand,  but  is  at  a  loss 
for  motives  strong  enough  to  render  events  sufficiently 
probable.  There  is  but  one  remedy  for  this.  He  must 
give  actions  without  motives,  whereby  he  will  greatly 
astonish  the  reader,  and  produce  an  agreeable  excite- 
ment. The  most  deplorable  case,  however,  is  when  an 
author  has  ploughed  the  fertile  bog  of  his  understand- 
ing, till  it  has  become  a  perfect  pine  barren,  in  which 
the  principle  of  vegetation  is  entirely  extinct.  Nothing 
is  then  left  him  but  to  make  the  most  of  nothing.  He 
must  loiter  along  like  a  school-boy,  anon  chasing  but- 
terflies, and  next  skipping  stones  in  every  puddle  by 
the  way.  Whenever  he  introduces  a  personage,  he 
should  be  very  particular  in  giving  the  precise  hour, 
or  minute  of  his  appearance;  be  sure  to  apprise  the 
reader  what  kind  of  a  day  or  night  it  is,  and  whether 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  163 

the  moon  shines.  Most  important  of  all,  he  should 
describe  the  gentleman's  dress  to  the  very  button,  and 
by  no  means  ever  send  him  on  a  visit  to  his  mistress 
without  apprising  the  reader  whether  or  not  he  had 
been  previously  shaved. 

If  the  debutant  is  a  lady,  he  should  be,  if  possible, 
still  more  particular,  and  enact  the  man-milliner  to 
the  utmost  extent  of  his  genius,  which,  if  deficient  in 
this  important  particular,  should  by  all  means  be 
refreshed  by  an  application  to  some  competent  author- 
ity among  the  French  milliners.  It  is  indispensable 
that  he  should  individualize,  and  not  omit  a  single 
item,  except  such  as  claim  the  privilege  of  invisibility. 
In  short,  he  should  take  pattern  after  the  London 
scribes  who  chronicle  the  stupendous  events  of  a  birth- 
night  ball,  and  tell  us  to  a  penny  the  value  of  a  lady's 
jewels.  By  these,  and  other  adroit  expedients — of 
which  the  present  discussion  may  serve  as  a  specimen 
— it  is  amazing  (we  speak  from  experience)  with  what 
ease  a  couple  of  volumes  of  cheap  literature  may  be 
spun  out  of  an  exceedingly  small  modicum  of  the  raw 
material,  and  how  much  wear  and  tear  is  saved  to  a 
weather-beaten  fancy.  But  we  will  say  no  more,  least 
the  intelligent  reader  should  suspect  us  of  seeking  to 
appear  wiser  than  himself,  a  degree  of  presumption  we 
utterly  disclaim.  Our  sole  object  has  been  to  throw  out 
a  few  hints  for  the  benefit  of  the  rising  generation, 
gleaned  in  the  course  of  a  long  experience  in  the  mys- 
teries of  authorship.  Having  done  thisy  we  will  take 
up  the  clue  of  our  story,  if  we  can  find  it  again. 


164  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

The  Cavalier,  as  previously  hinted,  returned  home 
in  great  dudgeon,  and,  according  to  custom,  summon- 
ed Gregory  to  a  cabinet  council  on  the  subject  of  the 
reported  movement  of  the  savages.  He  accounted 
that  trusty  knave  the  best  of  all  counsellors,  since 
he  was  accustomed  to  boast  that  he  had  an  instinct 
apprising  him  of  any  coming  danger,  which  he  could 
foretell  with  as  much  certainty  as  an  almanac  does 
the  weather. 

"  Come  hither,  sirrah,"  said  Master  Tyringham, 
"you  are  a  notorious  poltroon,  and  they  say  cowardice 
is  sometimes  inspired  with  good  counsel.  I  hear  the 
savages  are  preparing  to  fall  upon  us." 

"  You  call  me  coward,  sir,"  answered  Gregory, 
"  but  say  what  you  will,  there  is  not  a  more  valiant 
man  in  the  colony,  so  long  as  danger  keeps  at  a  dis- 
tance." 

"  And  you  take  special  care  always  to  keep  it  so, 
for  you  never  fail  to  run  away  before  it  comes  in 
sight." 

"  Just  so,  sir, — that  is  to  say,  before  it  becomes 
visible  to  vulgar  eyes.  I  have  a  sort  of  second  sight 
of  danger,  and  always  flee  before  the  shadow,  because 
I  know  the  substance  cannot  be  far  off.  I  am  not,  I 
thank  the  sign  that  governed  my  nativity — to  wit,  the 
crab  that  feeds  by  moonlight — one  of  those  stupid 
people,  who,  not  seeing  danger  till  it  is  too  late  to 
escape,  are  compelled  to  fight  in  spite  of  their  teeth, 
and  then  desperation  passes  for  valor." 

"  Good — now  will  you,  who  understand  the  subject 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  165 

so  thoroughly,  define  a  man  of  courage,  according  to 
your  system  of  logic  ?" 

"  Why,  sir,  your  true  courageous  Philistine — " 

"  Gregory,  don't  repeat  that  infernal  word  again;  it 
is  perpetually  in  the  mouth  of  that  canting  Round- 
head yonder,  who  has  scruples  of  conscience  in  fight- 
ing against  any  one  but  the  King  and  the  Church. 
Do  you  know  he  just  now  as  much  as  called  me  a 
Philistine,  and  talked  of  repelling  the  savages  with 
praying  and  psalm-singing.  Instead  of  Philistines 
say  Moabites." 

"  Or  Hittites,  if  your  worship  pleases.  But  touch- 
ing the  logical  definition,  sir,  your  only  true  man  of 
valor  is  he  who  holds  danger  in  such  sovereign  con- 
tempt that  he  incontinently  turns  his  back  on  it ;  or, 
what  is  still  more  incontestible  demonstration  of  hero- 
ism, is  so  little  afraid  of  death  that  he  makes  no 
resistance,  and  dies  quietly  like  a  true  philosopher.  A 
murrain  take  those  dastardly  bullies  who  are  forever 
fighting  through  pure  fear  of  being  called  cowards.  For 
my  part,  I  am  not  afraid  of  that  name — not  I — and  if 
I  keep  myself  out  of  harm's  way,  it  is  only  for  fear  I 
should  cry  out  before  I  am  hurt.  Others  may  die  from 
sheer  cowardice,  but,  for  my  part,  I  am  not  afraid  to 
live." 

"  'Slife,  Gregory,  you  are  the  first  fool  I  ever  met 
with  that  took  such  pains  to  prove  himself  a  coward." 

"Coward,  sir!  didn't  I  follow  you  to  the  wars,  and 
courageously  eschew  all  danger,  in  spite  of  the  flout- 
ings  of  those  pestilent  knaves,  that  fought  only  that 


166  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

they  were  afraid  to  run  away,  because  they  feared 
dishonor  more  than  death  ?  A  man  like  me  has  some 
right  to  boast,  when  he  can  set  his  face  manfully 
against  all  the  world  and  despise  its  ridicule.  Is  not 
this  a  greater  proof  of  valor  than  to  face  a  single 
enemy  ?  You  forget,  sir,  that  I  saved  the  whole  royal 
army  by  crying  out  one  night  that  the  Crop-ears  were 
upon  them,  whereby  they  were  the  better  prepared  for 
their  coming  next  morning." 

"  Why,  friend  Gregory,  you  have  mistaken  your 
vocation,  and  were  certainly  intended  for  a  senior 
wrangler.  I  predict  to  a  certainty  you  will  one  day 
meet  death  in  the  teeth  by  running  away  from  him." 

"  "With  your  permission,  sir,  I'd  rather  it  were  in 
the  night,  for  I  should  not  like  to  die  in  my  own  pre- 
sence, and  see  myself  after  I  was  dead." 

"  Well — well — I  confess  you  to  be  as  courageous  as 
a  hen  partridge  protecting  her  young.  But  enough  of 
this.  I  wished  to  consult  your  apprehensive  cowardice 
concerning  the  probability  of  this  rumor.  What  think 
you,  will  the  caitiffs  come  ?" 

"  Beyond  question,  Master — I  feel  it  in  my  bones  ; 
they  always  ache  before  a  basting,  and  my  short  ribs 
have  lately  troubled  me  sorely.  Besides  I  have  a 
strange  tingling  sensation  about  my  head,  which 
causes  my  hair  to  stand  on  end  of  late,  and  I  think 
betokens  its  loss  ere  long." 

"  Will  you  never  be  serious,  thou  incorrigible  buf- 
foon ?  Is  this  a  time  to  be  jesting  ;  and  would  you 
think  it  a  laughing  matter  if  the  savages  were  to  come 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  167 

in  the  middle  of  the  night  and  wake  us  up  with  the 
yell  of  death,  never  to  sleep  again  except  in  the  arms 
of  death  ?  Or  what  is  still  worse,  think  of  their  car- 
rying us  away  captive,  not  to  spare  our  lives,  but  to 
make  death  a  thousand  times  more  lingering,  agoniz- 
ing and  terrible.  I  think  I  see  at  this  moment  our 
bleeding  scalps  torn  from  our  heads,  reeking  with 
blood ;  our  skins  bristling  with  sharp  pine  knots, 
smoking  and  blazing  like  lighted  torches  ;  our  heads 
left  naked  to  the  brain,  covered  with  live  coals  ;  our 
legs  up  to  the  knees  in  burning  embers,  and  our  bodies 
expiring  in  agonies  beyond  the  reach  of  thought,  or 
the  utterance  of  the  tongue.  This  is  no  theme  for 
jesting  or  laughter.  Before  to-rnorrow  morning  we 
may  have  a  chorus  of  dying  groans  and  shrieks  of 
anguish." 

But  never  man  was  farther  from  laughing  than 
Gregory  Moth  at  this  moment.  The  appalling  picture 
presented  by  his  master  had  stirred  him  up  to  an 
agony  of  terror.  He  was  on  his  knees,  his  eyes  wildly 
glaring  around,  his  limbs  trembling,  his  teeth  chatter- 
ing, and  his  tongue  cleaving  to  the  roof  of  his  mouth. 
His  master  contemplated  him  with  a  sort  of  scornful 
pity,  and  when  he  had  somewhat  recovered,  said : 

"  Well,  sir,  are  you  now  prepared  to  give  your  ad- 
vice seriously  ?" 

"  Ye — e — e — s,  sir,"  replied  Gregory,  trembling, 
"  Ye — e — s,  sir.  My  advice  is  to  make  the  best  of  our 
way  to  the  capital,  without  once  looking  behind,  and 


168  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

depart  thence  in  the  first  ship  for  Old  England,  where 
these  are  none  of  these  copper-colored  villains." 

"  What !  leave  my  home  to  be  burnt,  my  estate  to 
be  plundered,  and  return  to  England  a  beggar,  as  I  left 
it  ?  No — no,  Gregory,  those  who  look  for  independ- 
ence and  fortune  here  must  fight  for  it.  So  let  me 
hear  what  else  you  have  to  propose.  I  know  you  are 
not  such  an  ass  as  you  affect  to  be,  and  can  give  good 
counsel  when  you  please." 

Gregory  rallied,  and,  after  due  consideration,  deliv- 
ered himself  to  this  effect.  He  advised  that  informa- 
tion of  the  rumor  should  be  sent  to  the  capital,  with  a 
request  for  assistance  ;  that  the  house  of  Master  Tyr- 
ingham  should  be  put  in  as  good  a  state  of  defence  as 
possible  ;  that  none  of  the  family  should  be  permitted 
to  stray  from  home  ;  and  that  a  watch  should  be  set 
at  night  to  give  notice  of  danger." 

"  Gregory,"  said  his  master,  "  I  say  and  swear  it — 
you  are  an  oracle.  Though  you  yaw  about  like  a  ship 
without  a  rudder,  you  never  fail  to  come  safe  into  port 
at  last.  It  is  exactly  what  I  had  determined  on  before 
I  asked  your  advice." 

"  Hum,"  quoth  Gregory,  "  I  thought  as  much.  My 
master  never  consults  anybody  until  he  has  made  up 
his  mind  to  do  as  he  pleases." 

Preparations  were  accordingly  made  in  accordance 
with  the  advice  of  the  sage  Gregory.  But  it  would 
seem,  if  people  are  to  be  caught  at  all,  they  aro 
caught  napping.  Our  friend,  the  wise  old  gentleman, 
observes  on  this  occasion  that  it  is  better  to  make  pre- 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  169 

paration  a  hundred  times  against  danger  that  never 
comes,  than  to  be  caught  once  unprepared  when  it 
arrives.  The  savages  did  not  come  this  time.  The 
rumor  probably  arose  from  those  unceasing  apprehen- 
sions which  would  have  rendered  a  residence  under  such 
circumstances  intolerable,  were  it  not  that  perpetual 
danger  is  its  own  antidote.  It  is  among  the  special 
mercies  of  Providence,  that  what  mankind  are  con- 
demned to  endure  without  ceasing  ceases  by  degrees 
to  be  unbearable  ;  and  that  the  burden  which  must  be 
inevitably  borne  becomes  lighter  the  longer  it  is  car- 
ried. The  calm  which  had  for  a  time  been  ruffled  by 
the  rumor  of  Indian  hostilities  again  returned  ;  the 
every  day  business  of  life  went  on  as  before,  and  the 
good  people  became  more  confident  that  the  danger 
was  past,  from  their  having  been  needlessly  alarmed. 

But  methinks  we  hear  the  gentle  reader  complain- 
ing that  we  have  lately  said  nothing  of  the  ladies, 
who  most  assuredly  have  the  best  right  to  figure  in 
romance,  because  the  greatest  number  of  readers  bo- 
long  to  the  sex.  "  After  cheating  me,"  methinks  I 
hear  you  say,  "  into  a  belief  that  Susan  Baneswright 
was  to  be  your  heroine,  and  Harold  Habingdon  your 
hero,  you  drop  the  one  entirely,  and  say  little  or 
nothing  about  the  other.  Is  she  dead  ?  If  so  you 
might  have  said  something  civil  about  her.  For  aught 
I  can  see  we  are  to  have  neither  hero  or  heroine." 

Gentle  reader  !  Susan  is  not  dead.  But  what  could 
we  say  of  her  worthy  the  dignity  of  romance  ?  She 
lias  kept  on  the  even  tenor  of  her  way,  gently  revolv- 
S 


170  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

ing  in  the  quiet  circle  of,  the  domestic  fireside,  care- 
fully fulfilling  all  those  noble  duties  on  which  women 
are  now  taught,  by  mischievous  discussions  on  their 
rights,  to  look  down  with  contempt  as  degrading  to 
the  sex,  but  which  contribute  far  more  to  their  own 
happiness,  and  that  of  the  entire  human  race,  than  all 
the  equivocal  virtues  of  an  Elizabeth,  or  all  the  dan- 
gerous talents  of  a  Corinne.  It  is  not,  quoth  the  wise 
old  gentleman  at  our  side,  it  is  not  by  her  efforts  with- 
out doors,  but  within  ;  it  is  not  by  winning  public 
admiration,  but  by  private  acts,  her  unseen,  but  not 
unfelt  agency  ;  not  by  leading  armies,  subduing  king- 
doms, governing  states,  or  mingling  in  the  contami- 
nating strife  of  manhood,  but  by  instilling  into  the 
future  man  those  virtues  which  prepare  him  for  the 
performance  of  high  achievements,  and  the  exercise  of 
great  virtues,  that  woman  best  fulfils  her  divine  mis- 
sion. Surely  it  is  enough  that  one-half  the  human 
race  is  compelled  to  delve  in  Mammon's  mine,  to 
smother  or  control  the  generous  impulses  of  the  heart, 
and  become  selfish  in  self-defence.  In  the  name  of 
virtue  and  humanity,  let  not  the  other  half  be  en- 
gulphed  in  the  vortex  of  this  scuffling  world,  least  it 
become  a  hell,  and  be  peopled  by  fiends.  The  best 
praise  of  woman  is  never  to  be  talked  of  by  the  world. 
Silence  is  her  most  eloquent  eulogium  ;  the  approving 
thoughts  of  others  her  highest  praise,  and  the  suffrage 
of  heaven  her  richest  reward.  So  saith  the  old  gentle- 
man ;  but  it  must  be  confessed  he  is  at  least  a  hun- 
dred years  behind  the  spirit  of  the  age. 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  171 

As  our  first  object  in  this  work  was  to  gain  the 
approbation  of  the  highest  order  of  fashionable  readers 
we  had  determined  to  avoid  all  low,  common-place 
topics,  and  especially  all  such  domestic  concerns  as 
exclusively  appertain  to  the  vulgar.  But  as  the  reader 
is  determined  to  know  something  more  of  good  Mis- 
tress Habingdon,  he  must  be  gratified  at  all  hazards. 
Be  it  known,  then,  that  Susan  passed  most  of  her  time 
in  plying  her  needle  and  knitting  stockings.  As  an 
apology  for  these  ignoble  occupations,  it  should  be 
recollected  that  at  this  period  there  were  no  men-milli- 
ners in  the  new  world,  and  as  for  seamstresses  and 
spinsters,  professionally,  nothing  of  the  kind  was  ever 
heard  of.  Young  women  were  too  valuable  to  become 
hired  menials,  and  a  damsel  of  ordinary  attractions 
was  a  prize  for  a  first-rate  planter.  If  not  worth  her 
weight  in  gold  she  was  in  tobacco. 

Yet  it  cannot  be  denied  that  the  needle  is  an  instru- 
ment  of  more  value  than  the  sword,  the  revolving 
pistol,  or  even  the  "  Big  Gun"  of  the  conqueror  of 
California,  being  most  potent  in  keeping  women  out 
of  mischief.  How  many  heavy  hours  does  it  while 
away  that  would  otherwise  be  spent  in  yawning  lassi- 
tude, or  exerted  in  the  fruitless  pursuit  of  some  fleet- 
ing shadow  that  mocks  her  as  it  flies ;  and  what  a  zest 
it  gives  to  the  hours  of  rest  and  relaxation,  or  to  the 
employment  of  the  mind  in  wholesome  study,  or  quiet 
contemplation.  A  stitch  in  time  not  only  saves  nine, 
but  kills  time,  while  it  excites  a  gentle  interest,  by 
carrying  her  who  plies  the  needle  to  the  end  of  her 


172  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

seam.  At  least  one  half  the  errors  and  follies,  not  to 
say  crimes,  of  the  human  race,  quoth  the  wise  old 
gentleman,  originate  in  not  knowing  what  to  do  with 
themselves.  Excitement  of  some  kind  or  other  is 
indispensable,  and  those  who  don't  find  it  in  business 
must  seek  it  in  pleasure  or  mischief.  Having  run 
down  one  fancied  pleasure,  they  soon  become  sated, 
and  seek  another  more  piquant  and  racy,  until  at 
length  mere  folly  grows  insipid,  and  excitement  can 
only  be  allayed  by  guilty  indulgence.  It  is  matter  of 
surprise  that  our  lawyers  don't  urge  this  in  extenua- 
tion of  murder,  instead  of  laying  it  to  the  temptations 
of  the  devil,  or  resorting  to  the  old  threadbare  plea  of 
insanity.  But  a  great  portion  of  these  temptations 
may  be  avoided  by  the  gentle  sex  if  they  will  only 
resort  to  the  needle,  which  is  a  sort  of  non-conductor 
to  all  ^orts  of  mischief.  As  the  lightning  rod  protects 
the  house  from  the  dread  flashes  of  the  angry  cloud, 
so  does  the  needle  ward  off  the  besetting  sin  of  love, 
insomuch  that  it  is  an  established  truth  that  no  woman 
can  possibly  thread  her  needle  while  thinking  of  her 
sweetheart.  "Well  might  the  goddess  of  wisdom,  con- 
tinues the  old  gentleman,  dispute  with  Arachne  th« 
superior  management  of  the  needle,*  and  change  that 
notable  damsel  into  a  spider  for  excelling  her  in  stitch- 
ing, for  it  is  most  undoubtedly  the  greatest  of  all 
female  accomplishments.  Would  I  were  a  tailor ! 

Not  that  Susan  devoted  herself  exclusively  to  the 
needle.     The  spinning  wheel  was  not  then  quite  obso- 
*  Some  pretend  it  was  the  distaff. 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  173 

lete,  and  often,  yea,  every  day,  though  not  all  day 
long,  would  she  and  Miriam  join  in  the  harmonious 
concert  of  the  spinning  wheel.  It  was  worth  a  trip  to 
the  Nile  to  see  them,  as  they  sat  side  by  side,  on  a 
balmy  spring  morning,  at  an  open  window  that  looked 
out  over  a  spacious  greensward,  dotted  with  trees,  as 
old  as  the  flood,  on  the  wide  expanse  of  the  shining 
river.  Dressed  in  the  simple  fashion  of  the  sect,  with- 
out ornaments  of  any  kind,  they  might  almost  pass 
for  sisters.  Susan  was  one  of  those  jewels  of  women 
that  grow  handsomer  as  they  grow  old,  and  though,  as 
long  ago  stated,  no  beauty  when  young,  had  become 
one  of  the  most  comely  of  matrons.  Miriam  was  the 
genuine  representative  of  a  very  small  class  of  females, 
that  like  a  glorious  landscape  cannot  be  described,  be- 
cause no  words  can  convey  an  idea  of  the  expression 
of  one,  or  the  cunning  dexterity  of  nature  in  combining 
the  other.  As  the  mother  and  daughter  plied  this 
most  graceful  of  occupations,  their  appearance  was 
touchingly  attractive.  The  easy  motions  of  the  head 
and  chest,  keeping  time  with  those  of  the  little  foot ; 
one  hand  touching  the  light  distaff,  the  other  moving 
to  and  fro  as  it  drew  forth  the  slender  thread  and 
returned  it  again,  all  formed  a  picture  fresh  from  the 
hand  of  nature,  more  graceful  and  alluring  than  all 
the  grimaces  and  contortions  of  sickly  affectation.  Talk 
of  the  waltz,  the  polka  and  mazourka — pshaw  ! 

In  those  long  delicious  summer  twilights,  equally 
dear  to  the  poetic  as  the  contemplative  mind,  it  was 
their  custom  to  ramble  along  the  shore  of  the  river 


174  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

whose  silvery  sands,  washed  by  the  salt  waters  of  the 
not  distant  ocean,  the  hollow  drumming  of  whose  surf 
might  sometimes  be  heard,  afforded  a  pleasant  pro- 
menade. On  these  occasions  they  were  generally 
escorted  by  Harold,  and  sometimes,  previous  to  the 
prohibition  of  the  wrathful  Cavalier,  by  Langley 
Tyringham,  when  he  chanced  to  come  that  way. 
Their  conversation  was  generally  of  a  sober,  pious  cast, 
sometimes  enlivened  by  the  spritely  or  enthusiastic 
sallies  of  the  youth,  who,  with  all  his  active,  vigorous 
habits  of  body,  was  of  an  imaginative  mind.  These, 
though  they  excited  a  smile  in  the  face  of  Susan,  and 
sometimes  a  thrill  in  the  heart  of  Miriam,  were 
received  by  Harold  with  a  stiff,  discouraging  gravity, 
which,  though  not  expressed  in  words,  was  sufficiently 
intelligible. 

Harold  was  a  sincerely  pious  man.  He  loved  his 
Maker,  but  did  not  seem  to  love  His  works ;  and  when 
Langley  and  sometimes  Miriam  broke  forth  in  admira- 
tion of  the  glories  of  the  setting  sun,  or  the  silvery 
beauty  of  the  rising  moon,  would  check  their  innocent 
and  happy  feelings,  by  drawing  contemptuous  contrasts 
between  the  eternal  omnipotence  of  the  Creator,  and 
the  frail  duration  of  all  created  things.  He  did  not 
seem  to  comprehend  the  beautiful  truth,  that  there  is 
an  inseparable  connexion  between  the  great  Creator 
and  His  works,  which  are  the  Jacob's  ladder  by  which, 
step  by  step,  we  ascend  to  the  beneficent  Architect  of 
all  these  wonders.  Where  shall  we  look  for  a  livelier 
type  of  infinite  goodness,  than  in  the  beauties  of 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  175 

nature,  and  the  bounties  of  the  generous  earth  ?  Where 
shall  we  look  for  a  more  striking  exemplification  of 
His  mercy  than  in  the  rich  gifts  He  has  bestowed  on 
wayward,  ungrateful  man  ?  And  where  shall  we  find 
a  greater  proof  of  His  omnipotence,  than  in  contem- 
plating the  uncircumscribed  infinitude  of  His  glorious 
universe  ? 

It  is  greatly  to  be  regretted — says  the  wise  old  gen- 
man  aforesaid — that  rigidly  righteous  persons  do  not 
sometimes  condescend  to  make  themselves  agreeable 
to  those  who  are  not  precisely  so ;  that  they  clothe 
religion  in  sackcloth  and  ashes  ;  war  against  the  cheer- 
ful hilarity  of  youth,  and  the  innocent  recreations  of 
manhood  ;  and  convert  a  smiling  cherub  into  a  scowl- 
ing demon,  looking  askance  at  all  that  adorns  and 
embellishes  human  existence.  Thus  is  the  balmy 
solace  sent  to  cheer  us  onward  through  the  thorny 
path  of  life  converted  into  gall  and  bitterness  ;  and 
the  light  intended  to  guide  us  to  port,  becomes  not  a 
beacon  to  the  haven  of  rest,  but  to  the  iron-bound 
coast  of  gloom,  despondency,  and  despair.  It  were 
much  to  be  wished  that  piety  would  make  herself 
more  amiable  to  the  young,  instead  of  adopting  that 
species  of  monkish  austerity,  by  which  the  anchorites 
of  old  sought  to  starve  their  way  to  heaven,  by  reject- 
ing the  bounties  of  the  earth.  Surely,  to  turn  our 
backs  on  nature  and  all  her  beautiful  works  in  sour 
disdain  ;  to  refuse  to  partake  in  the  banquet  spread 
out  before  us,  because  it  may  sometimes  be  enjoyed 
to  excess ;  or  to  stifle  those  glorious  impulses  of 


176  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

genius,  which,  if  anything  on  earth  can  claim  so 
high  a  mission,  are  direct  emanations  from  that  spirit 
which  is  everywhere  and  eternal;  to  war  on  smiles 
and  laughter,  which  are  among  the  gifts  bestowed  on 
man  alone,  of  all  created  beings,  and  to  shut  our  senses 
in  bitter  spleen  against  all  the  good  provided  for  us 
here — to  do  this,  is  surely  neither  conformable  to 
reason,  philosophy  or  religion,  but  a  fanatical  perver- 
sion of  a  glorious  blessing. 

Harold  became  every  day~mare  deeply  infected  with 
this  bitter  piety,  and  both  Susan  and  Miriam  in  some 
degree"partook  of  its  twilight  gloom.  They  lived  as  it 
were  in  the  shadow  of  life,  and  never  enjoyed  the  sun- 
shine in  all  its  warmth  and  brilliancy.  Still  they 
were,  perhaps,  as  happy  as  their  neighbors  ;  for  it 
would  be  a  sad  thing  if  there  was  but  one  wholesome 
and  palatable  dish  in  this  world,  seeing  that  each  one 
has  his  peculiar  favorite. 

But  Miriam  was  fortunate  about  this  time  in  having 
a  new  excitement — a  gentle  one  it  is  true — but  any 
excitement  was  better  than  none,  to  one  whose  whole 
life  was  one  day  so  like  the  other.  At  the  expiration 
of  some  ten  days,  or  perhaps  a  fortnight,  after  the 
interdict  of  the  Cavalier,  she  was  sitting  at  the  win- 
dow admiring  the  setting  sun,  and  the  many-colored, 
ever-changing  tints  of  the  river  and  the  skies,  which 
gave  forth  their  brightest  hues  to  the  dying  day. 
"Without  being  actually  engaged  in  contemplating  the 
past,  or  anticipating  the  future,  her  fancy,  like  the 
butterfly  among  the  flowers,  was  lightly  skimming 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  177 

from  one  to  another,  without  closing  its  wings,  or  set- 
tling on  either.  In  this  state  of  wayward  wandering, 
it  all  of  a  sudden  occurred  to  her  that  she  had  not  seen 
Langley  Tyringham  for  a  great  while.  She  did  not 
much  like  him  to  be  sure,  and  cared  not  if  she  ever 
saw  him  again.  He  was  too  gay  and  flighty,  too 
headlong  and  enthusiastic  for  her  taste  ;  and  she  had 
seen  him  actually  drink  wine.  Nay,  it  was  told  her 
by  Mildred,  who  had  it  from  Gregory  Moth,  that  he 
sometimes  danced  at  balls  at  the  capital,  and  had  on 
more  than  one  occasion  attended  a  horse  race.  Such 
a  man  could  be  nothing  to  her ;  but  still  she  could  not 
help,  somehow  or  other,  wondering  a  little  why  he  did 
not  call  at  the  house,  or  meet  them  in  their  evening 
walks,  as  he  used  to  do  once  or  twice  a  week.  In  a 
word,  she  began  to  think  of  Langley  Tyringham,  and 
the  longer  his  absence  continued,  the  more  she 
wondered  why,  until  at  last  her  curiosity  became 
quite  uncomfortable.  It  was  the  old  story ;  what  she 
slighted  in  possession  was  valued  when  lost,  and 
Miriam  by  degrees  became  conscious  that  Master  Lang- 
ley  had  been  a  very  efficient  spoke  in  the  wheel  of 
time.  Of  late  that  worthy  old  gentleman  of  the  hour 
glass  had  limped  along  on  a  snail's  gallop,  and  his 
scythe  became  so  dull  that  he  left  a  great  many  weeds 
behind  in  his  path. 

Langley,  too,  had  a  grievous  perplexity  on  his 
shoulders.  He  could  not  for  the  life  of  him  see  any 
reason  why  he  should  be  prohibited  visiting  Miriam, 
merely  because  the  two  old  gentlemen  differed  in  poli- 


ITS  TH 

tics  and  religion.  He  had  no  more  to  do  with  this 
than  the  man  in  the  moon,  -who  is  a  mighty  indifferent 
old  gentleman,  and  an  example  to  all  busy-bodies.  At 
length,  through  a  long  rigmarole  of  ratiocination,  he 
arrived  at  the  conclusion,  that  unless  there  was  some- 
tiling  very  particular  to  prevent,  there  was  no  particu- 
lar reason  for  prevention.  What  this  particular  reason 
could  be  puzzled  him  sorely,  until  one  evening  it  sud- 
denly popped  into  his  pericranium,  that  it  must  he 
Miriam,  though  it  is  believed  this  was  the  first  time  a 
reason  was  ever  metamorphosed  into  a  woman.  But 
why  this  should  be,  was  a  question  that  always  brought 
him  to  a  dead  stand,  where  he  stuck  fast,  thinking 
and  thinking;  but  always  coming  back  to  his  old  con- 
clusion, that  his  father  was  afraid  he  might  fall  in 
love  with,  and  many  the  Roundhead's  daughter. 
Thus  it  will  be  perceived  that  he  was  continually 
coupling  Miriam  and  matrimony  together,  a  most 
dangerous  conjunction,  worse  man  Oat  of  Yirgo  and 
OMB  Twins. 

In  this  mystical  state  of  mutual  sympathy,  which 
is  said  to  be  ominous  of  other  mutual  affinities,  it  so 
happened  that  Miriam,  one  balmy  twilight  in  the 
merry  in»jfclli  of  May,  which,  in  that  genial  southern 
dime  is  wormy  all  the  raptures  of  the  rascally  poets, 
set  forth  on  a  lonely  ramble  by  the  river-side.  A 
variety  of  good  reasons  *nignt  be  givcu  why  she  was 
not  accompanied  by  one  or  both  her  parents,  as  usual, 
which  would  fill  a  page  or  two  very  comfortably  to 
the  author,  and  doubtless  equally  edifying  to  the 


THE    PURITAH    AWD   EOS    DAUGHTER.  179 

reader.  But,  notwithstanding  the  temptation,  we 
shall  content  ourselves  with  stating,  positively  and 
unequivocally,  that  it  was  decreed  by  fete  that  Miriam 
should  be  alone  that  evening.  Precisely  at  the  same 
time  did  Master  Langley,  doubtless  touched  by  that 
magnetic  telegraph  by  which  young  people  in  love,  or 
destined  to  fall  in  love,  communicate  with  each  other 
without  being  a  whit  the  wiser,  set  forth  in  the  same 
direction. 

It  was  a  charming  evening  of  the  sunny  sooth, 
when  the  lazy  twilight,  like  some  ancient  dame  pick- 
ing her  way  through  the  increasing  obscurity,  and 
sounding  the  path  with  stick  in  hand,  lingers  long 
after  the  setting  sun.  The  lord  of  day,  though  sunk 
behind  the  distant  mountains,  had  left  the  reflection 
of  his  glories  behind  him  in  the  skies,  which  presented 
a  gorgeous  array  of  purple,  red,  and  gold,  mingling 
with,  and  decking  the  light  fantastic  clouds  that  dept 
in  the  lap  of  the  blue  heavens,  unmoved  by  a  single 
breath  of  air,  and  yet  were  perpetually  changing  in 
hue  and  form.  The  broad  river  was  at  rest  like  all 
nature  around,  and  only  presented  a  quick  succession 
of  varying  purple  tints  reflected  from  the  skies.  The 
mockbird,  that  Orpheus  of  nature's  tuneful  choir,  was 
running  the  round  of  all  his  endless  variations,  and 
trilling  forth  his  matchless  melodies,  with  such  a  joy- 
ous hilarity,  such  a  rich  redundancy  of  extempora- 
neous song,  that  had  any  of  our  prima  donnas  heard 
him  she  would  have  died  of  envy.  Other  than  the 
rural  minstrel  no  sound  met  the  ear,  save  ever  and 


180  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

anon  at  a  distance,  and  at  distant  intervals,  might  be 
heard  the  splashing  of  the  huge  sturgeon,  as  he  fell 
back  from  his  ambitious  attempt  to  see  a  little  of  the 
world  above.  The  reader  must  pardon  this  sketch, 
for  we  delight  in  such  scenes,  whether  of  fancy  or 
reality,  and  pity  those,  whether  old  or  young,  who 
have  outlived,  or  never  enjoyed,  a  wholesome  relish  of 
nature's  enchanting  beauties. 

The  two  wandering  pilgrims  saw  eaeh  other  at  a 
distance,  and,  as  they  were  proceeding  opposite  ways, 
of  course  gradually  approached  each  other,  without 
attempting  to  avoid  a  meeting.  They  actually  did 
start  a  little  at  first  sight,  for  it  happened  they  were 
at  that  moment  both  thinking  of  the  same  thing. 
Langley  was  wondering  at  the  prohibition  of  his 
father,  and  Miriam  was  wondering  why  he  had  ceased 
his  visits.  Certainly  this  was  a  wonderful  coincidence, 
and  foretold  something  extraordinary.  As  they  were 
both  walking  along  the  same  river  path  towards  each 
other,  it  is  obvious  they  must  have  met  in  time  ;  and 
accordingly  meet  they  did,  under  a  great  antediluvian 
tree,  whose  wide-spread  branches  overshadowed  half 
an  acre  of  stinted  greensward.  The  ceremonies  of 
meeting  were  very  common-place,  and  if  either  blushed 
it  passed  unheeded  by  the  other,  for  both  had  enough 
to  do  to  hide  their  own.  It  is  the  proper  business  of 
women  to  begin  first,  because  they  are  said  to  be 
always  ready  ;  and  Miriam,  seeing  Master  Langley  in 
all  appearance  at  a  loss  for  words,  addressed  him  in 
her  simple  Doric  dialect  : 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  181 

"  Thou  hast  been  a  stranger  at  our  house  of  late, 
Master  Langley." 

Master  Langley,  not  exactly  knowing  what  to  say, 
answered  in  that  expressive  monosyllable  with  which 
single  ladies  are  wont  to  reply  when  asked  a  certain 
impertinent  question,  and  another  pause  ensued. 

"  Hast  thou  been  absent  ?" 

"No." 

"Hast  thou  been  ill?" 

"  No." 

The  maiden  paused  a  few  moments,  and  though  she 
knew  nothing  of  logic — having  never  had  the  benefit 
of  Gregory  Moth's  instructions — actually  achieved  a 
syllogism.  "  He  has  not,"  thought  she,  "  he  has  not 
been  absent — he  has  not  been  ill — ergo,  he  did  not 
wish  to  see  me."  The  conclusion  was,  on  the  whole, 
not  satisfactory.  In  the  meantime,  Master  Langley 
had  been  chopping  logic,  too,  and  arrived  at  a  conclu- 
sion, that  it  was  equally  due  to  Miriam  and  himself 
that  he  should  apprise  her  of  the  cause  of  the  abrupt 
cessation  of  his  visits.  This  he  did  with  all  the  frank- 
ness of  his  nature,  adding,  that  though  at  a  loss  to 
know  his  father's  reasons  for  the  sudden  prohibition, 
he  had  felt  bound  to  conform  to  it,  however  contrary 
it  might  be  to  his  wishes. 

"  Alas !"  replied  Miriam,  sorrowfully,   "  well  do  I 
know  the  reason.     It  is  that  which  caused  the  perse- 
cutions of  my  dear  mother  and  her  parents  ;  it  is  tha^X 
which  sets  friends  against  friends,  countrymen  against 
countrymen,    brother   against    brother,    sons    against 


182  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

their  fathers,  and  fathers  against  their  children  :  it  is 
that  which  deluged  England  with  the  blood  of  her 
sons  ;  it  is  that  which  drove  us  from  our  home  to  seek 
a  refuge  in  the  wilderness  of  this  new  world.  I 
thought  not  that  it  would  cross  the  broad  seas,  and 
follow  us  here  to  set  neighbor  against  neighbor,  where 
it  seems  so  necessary  that  all  should  unite  in  defence 
of  each  other.  But  the  ways  of  heaven  are  not  for 
me  to  scan.  Doubtless  all  is  right,  or  all  will  come 
right  at  last." 

There  was  no  declamation  or  effort  in  all  this.     It 

• 

was  spoken  with  the  most  perfect  simplicity,  slowly, 
and  in  a  voice  of  plaintive  sweetness.  Her  face  was 
calm  and  unruffled,  yet  touched  by  an  expression  of 
profound  sorrow,  hallowed  by  devout  resignation. 
Her  dark  chestnut  hair,  which  was  quite  anti-Puritan, 
and  would  curl  in  spite  of  the  platform,  fell  back  from 
her  snowy  brow  as  she  raised  her  eyes  towards  heaven, 
and  Langley,  as  he  gazed  on  her  innocent  look,  called 
to  mind  the  pure,  unspotted  virgins  offered  up  in  olden 
time  on  the  blood-stained  altar  of  persecution.  He 
felt  too  much  to  speak,  and  another  silence  ensued, 
which  was  again  broken  by  Miriam. 

"  Thy  father  hath  seen  it  right  to  forbid  thy  coming 
to  my  father's  house,  and  doubtless  he  wishes  we 
should  not  meet  elsewhere  ;  continue  thy  walk  and  I 
will  return." 

"  Nay,  Miriam,  he  did  not  forbid  my  seeing  you  by 
accident." 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  183 

"  No,  but  that  was  doubtless  intended  in  his  prohi- 
bition, (rood  evening,  Master  Langley." 

"  I  entreat  you  to  stay  a  moment.  Surely  my 
father  cannot  dislike  one  so  young  and  unoffending 
as  you.  His  resentment  is  against  your  father;  and 
he  is  not,  I  assure  you,  of  a  disposition  to  confound 
the  innocent  with — with — " 

"  With  the  guilty,"  interrupted  Miriam  with  a 
sad  smile,  "  with  the  guilty,  thou  would  st  say,  after 
the  manner  of  presumptuous  mortals,  who  make  their 
own  principles,  yea,  often  prejudices,  the  standard  for 
the  reason  of  others,  and  are  not  content  with  freedom 
themselves  unless  they  can  impose  bondage  on  the  rest 
of  their  fellow  creatures.  Good  evening  once  again. 
I  wish  thee  well,  though  thy  father  hath  condemned 
me." 

There  was  truth  in  her  voice  and  her  eye  as  she  said 
this ;  Langley  was  touched  deeply  as  he  gazed  earn- 
estly in  her  face  and  almost  thought  it  beautiful.  There 
was  a  placid  and  earnest  simplicity  in  all  she  had 
said  ;  a  native  dignity  of  manner,  a  proud  humility, 
that  awakened  an  interest  he  had  never  felt  before, 
ardent  in  disposition,  quick  in  his  feelings,  and  prompt 
in  expressing  them,  he  gently  arrested  her  departure, 
entreating  her  to  continue  her  walk  and  permit  him 
to  accompany  her,  this  she  gently  but  firmly  declined  ; 
but  finally  acquiesced  in  a  compromise,  and  assented 
to  his  accompanying  her  towards  home. 

"You  seem  to  wish  it,"  said  she,    "  and  I  at  least 


184 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 


am  not  forbidden  to  meet  thee,  though  I  tell  the 
frankly  my  father  does  not  like  thee." 

"  I  know  it,"  replied  Langley,  "  but  I  hope  you 
don't  partake  in  his  dislike." 

"  I  do  " — what  she  would  have  added  was  suddenly 
arrested  by  a  slight  embarrassment,  and  she  said  no 
more,  as  they  continued  their  walk  slowly,  and  with 
frequent  pauses  in  the  conversation.  In  truth,  there 
seemed  little  accordance  in  their  feelings,  sentiments 
or  opinions.  By  degrees,  inspired  by  the  mellowed 
luxury  of  the  air,  the  beauties  of  the  scene,  and  the 
fragrance  of  the  blossoms  of  many  a  nameless  shrub 
and  plant  that  sprung  up  in  wild  luxuriance  around 
them,  Langley  launched  forth  in  his  naturally  poetic 
vein  of  talk,  and  became  eloquent  with  feeling.  The 
little  Puritan  girl  listened  and  looked  up  into  his  face, 
as  if  half  wondering  and  half  admiring.  Sometimes 
she  answered  not,  and  once  she  said  with  an  almost 
breathless  sigh — 

"  Though  hast  strong  feelings  and  a  virtuous  mind, 
else  thou  couldst  not  thus  revel  in  the  delights  of 
nature.  Pity  it  is  thou  dost  not  look  upwards  from 
this  beautiful  earth  to  Him  who  created  and  bestowed 
it  on  His  creatures." 

Langley  thought  of  the  Crop-ears ;  bat  though  this 
speech  did  not  exactly  please  him,  there  was  a  sin- 
cerity and  fervor  in  the  speaker,  and  sach  a  beautiful 
expression  of  piety  in  her  face,  that  he  paused  to 
admire  it. 

"  I  am  sorry,"    at  length,  he  said,    "  that  you  don't 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  185 

admire  such  a  scene  as  this.  Living  as  I  have  done, 
for  the  most  part  alone  in  the  forests,  without  a 
companion  in  thought  or  feeling,  I  know  not  what  I 
should  have  done  had  I  not  learned  to  commune  with 
nature;  to  fall  in  love,  and  almost  make  her  my 
mistress.  You  think  it  wrong  to  worship  nature  ?  " 

"  To  worship — but  not  to  love  her,"  answered 
Miriam,  with  a  gentle  smile.  "  Thou  dost  me  wrong 
in  thinking  I  am  blind  or  insensible  to  the  bounties 
of  Heaven,  or  the  beauties  of  nature.  I  love  the  green 
meadows,  the  silent,  shady  woods,  the  murmuring 
brooks,  the  waiving  hills,  and  rnisty  mountains.  I  love 
the  lily's  whiteness,  the  rose's  blush,  and  the  purple 
hyacinth,  clothed  in  all  the  glories  of  nature's  many- 
colored  wardrobe.  Whoever  loves  the  Creator  must 
love  his  beauteous  handiwork.  But  the  enthusiasm 
is  catching,"  said  she,  checking  herself  and  blush- 
ing, "  I  beseech  thee  not  to  laugh  at  me." 

"  Laugh  at  you,"  cried  Langley,  with  all  his  heart. 
"  Laugh  at  you  ?  By  my  soul,  I  love  to  hear  you — go 
on,  I  entreat  you." 

"  I  have  nothing  more  to  say,  but  that  those  who 
love  the  beauties  of  nature  should  be  grateful  to  Him 
that  spread  out  the  banquet  before  them." 

"Who  dares  to  say,"  exclaimed  the  youthful  enthu* 
siast,  "who  dares  to  say  that  piety  is  sour  and  repul- 
sive ?     By  my  soul,  as  I  see  it  now,  it  seems  more 
lovely  and  alluring  than  all  those  temptations  that  lead  ' 
astray  the  world." 

"  No  more  of  this,  sir,"  said  Miriam,  gravely,  "  thou 


186  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

hast  twice  invoked  thy  soul  to  witness  for  thee. 
Believe  me,  that  when  thus  invoked  it  bears  only  tes- 
timony against  thee." 

Langley  was  fairly  unhorsed.  His  enthusiasm  was 
checked  in  its  flight ;  he  again  thought  of  the  Crop- 
ears,  and  all  his  Cavalier  prejudices  were  awakened. 
He  could  not  at  that  moment  forgive  her,  and  she  was 
suddenly  transformed  into  a  prim,  starched,  common- 
place  Puritan.  He  did  not  know  she  was  as  much  of 
an  enthusiast  as  himself,  only  in  a  different  way.  In 
this  mood  they  arrived  at  a  little  gate  which  opened 
into  the  wide  lawn  spreading  out  from  Master  Hab ing- 
don's  house  to  the  river. 

"Leave  me  now,"  said  she,  "I  am  at  home,  and 
thou  must  no  farther  transgress  the  command  of  thy 
father." 

"  But  I  don't  like  to  appear  as  if  I  were  afraid 
of  being  seen.  And  besides,  if  I  skulk  away  now, 
will  it  not  be  suspected  that  our  meeting  was  not 
accidental  ?" 

"  If  my  father  or  mother  should  think  it  so,  I  will 
tell  them  otherwise,  and  they  will  believe  me.  (rood 
evening,"  added  she,  as  Langley  opened  the  gate, 
"  or  rather  I  should  say,  farewell,  for  though  we  live 
near  each  other,  it  may  be  long  before  we  meet  again, 
to  take  another  pleasant  walk  together." 

"  Ah  !  accident  may  bring  it  about  again." 

"  Think  not  so,  Langley," — she  had  never  called  him 
so  before, — "  it  will  not  be  accident  if  we  walk  there 
again  at  one  and  the  same  time.  Promise  me  thou 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  187 

wilt  walk  no  more  there  of  evenings,  or  I  must  walk 
elsewhere  or  stay  at  home."  He  promised,  and  she 
added — "  Farewell,  once  more — who  knows  if  we  shall 
ever  meet  again.  But  this  may  be  said  by  all  that 
part,  even  for  a  moment.  I  shall  often  remember  this 
evening." 

"  And  so  shall  I,"  said  Langley.  "  Farewell,  gentle 
Miriam,  when  I  look  back  on  the  past,  I  shall  often 
find  you  there." 

Miriam  passed  up  the  lawn,  and  Langley  pursued 
his  way  towards  home,  sometimes  belying  his  heart, 
by  calling  her  a  little  canting  prude,  at  others  almost 
revering  her  piety  and  singleness  of  heart. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

Eulogium  on  the  Divine  Tobacco  Pipe — A  Discussion  and  a  Catastro- 
phe— The  Cavalier  grows  Peremptory — A  Soliloquy — The  Cavalier 
for  once  Agrees  in  Opinion  with  the  Roundhead — Miriam  Talks 
like  a  Simpleton,  and  Thinks  not  a  whit  more  Wisely — Falls  Asleep 
in  a  Profound  Doubt. 

"  MOTH,"  said  Master  Hugh  Tyringham  to  his  trusty 
squire,  who  was  philosophically  solacing  himself  with 
the  truly  republican  relaxation  of  the  fragrant  pipe. 
We  call  it  republican — not  to  say  democratic — because 
it  is  emphatically  the  poor  man's  luxury,  innocent, 
cheap,  and  refreshing ;  one  that  he  can  enjoy  at  home  in 
summer  on  his  porch,  in  winter  by  his  fireside,  without 
seeking  abroad  for  vagrant  pleasures ;  one  that,  while 
it  produces  a  gentle,  harmless  excitement,  leads  to  no 
excesses,  like  the  mischievous  inspiration  of  wine,  and 
whiles  away  the  time  in  the  intervals  of  exhausting 
labor.  "Well  have  the  wise  red  men  of  the  woods 
selected  the  pipe  as  the  seal  of  reconciliation,  the 
token  that  the  bloody  hatchet  has  been  buried,  for  it 
is  the  very  emblem  of  peace  and  repose.  Would  any 
man  wish  to  calm  his  troubled  spirit,  ruffled  by  the 
rude  elbowings  of  the  busy  world,  or  wasting  away 
with  disappointed  hopes,  or  never-ending  toil;  would 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  189 

the  philosopher  wish  to  explore  the  depths  of  some 
unfathomable  doubt,  or  metaphysical  mystery ;  would 
the  poet  aspire  to  reach  the  highest  haven  of  inspira- 
tion, or  the  lover  seek  to  indulge  himself  in  weaving  a 
web  of  fancied  bliss,  let  him  light  his  pipe,  and,  like 
the  fabled  wand  of  the  magician,  it  will  conjure  up 
before  him  such  a  host  of  happy  ideas,  that  he  will  no 
longer  seek  the  fruition  of  dull  reality. 

Were  we  to  attempt  to  exhibit  a  picture  of  content 
— the  only  real  happiness  this  earth  affords — one  that 
would  attract  the  envy  of  mankind,  we  would  set 
before  them  yonder  grey-headed  Dutch  farmer,  not  fat, 
but  round  and  portly,  with  his  brown,  ruddy  face, 
calm  as  the  noble  river  that  flows  along  his  verdant 
meadows.  He  is  seated  under  his  porch,  one  of  the 
last  remaining  types  of  the  little  cocked  hat,  erewhile 
worn  by  the  great  Frederick  of  Prussia,  and  other 
celebrated  warriors.  He  has  finished  his  hay  and 
harvest,  his  barns  are  full,  and  generous  plenty  laughs 
him  in  the  face.  It  is  a  delightful  summer  evening, 
and  it  is  not  yet  time  to  go  to  rest.  No  wind  but  the 
sweet  southwestern  zephyr,  which  the  Indians  say 
comes  from  the  abode  of  the  Great  Spirit,  ruffles  the 
leaves  or  the  waters ;  no  noise  but  that  of  the  rural 
concert  of  tinkling  bells  and  lowing  herds,  nothing  to 
awaken  the  wickedness  of  man,  or  afford  his  great 
enemy  a  bait  to  lead  him  astray. 

He  has  lighted  his  pipe,  and  the  eddies  of  smoke 
ascend  in  spiral  volumes,  gradually  fading  away  in 
boundless  space.  Beside  him  sits  a  wholesome,  portly 


190  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

dame  plying  her  knitting  needles,  and  now  and  then 
it  is  clear,  from  the  old  man  taking  the  pipe  from  his 
mouth,  that  they  are  exchanging  a  few  "words.  On 
the  lower  step  of  the  porch,  and  at  a  respectful  dis- 
tance, sits  honest  Coony  O'Brien,  of  the  Emerald  Isle, 
a  hired  man,  who,  saving  that  he  sometimes  makes  a 
respectable  blunder,  is  as  honest  and  well  spoken  a 
person  as  one  would  wish  to  meet  with.  He  has  saved 
from  his  wages  enough  to  pay  his  brother's  passage  to 
the  land  where  labor  meets  its  due  reward,  and 
plenty  sits  laughing  in  the  lap  of  liberty.  Coony,  too, 
is  modestly  smoking  the  stump  of  a  pipe,  black  as 
ebony,  and  counting  the  days  till  the  coming  of  his 
brother.  Notwithstanding  all  the  loyal  and  orthodox 
writers  of  England  say  of  Irish  ignorance,  barbarity, 
and  that  sort  of  thing,  they  certainly  have  strong 
natural  feelings  and  affections,  and  if  they  are  impa- 
tient of  the  process  of  starvation,  we  must  expect  the 
apple  to  sputter  a  little  while  roasting.  The  honest 
fellow  looks  so  comfortable  that  we  could  almost  find 
in  our  heart  to  wish  we  were  Coony  O'Brien. 

A  plague  on  those  musty  moralists  who  would  feed 
the  world  with  crab  apples  ;  who  rail  against  the 
majesty  of  tobacco,  and  seek  to  deprive  the  poor  and 
lowly  of  their  cheap,  as  well  as  harmless,  solace  in  the 
few  short  hours  of  cessation  from  labor.  And  most 
especially  a  plague  on  those  pestilent  rulers  who  leave 
the  expensive  luxuries  of  the  rich  unburdened,  only  to 
lay  the  load  on  the  poor  man's  enjoyments.  Smoke 
away,  honest,  portly  Dutchman,  and  smoke  away, 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  191 

Coony ;  if  this  is  the  worst  thing  you  do  would  we 
were  in  your  old  shoes 

"  Gregory — Gregory  Moth  !"  exclaimed  Master  Tyr- 
ingham  somewhat  impatiently,  though  the  reader  must 
not  imagine  Gregory  was  quite  as  long  in  answering 
his  master's  summons  as  we  have  been  in  weaving 
the  foregoing  train  of  philosophical  speculation. 

"Coming,  sir,"  answered  the  squire,  "I  am  just 
knocking  the  ashes  out  of  my  pipe.  Dust  to  dust,  is 
the  moral  of  smoking." 

"  Have  you  seen  Langley  lately?  I  wish  to  speak 
with  him.  I  hear  more  about  the  Indians,  to-day. 
The  Governor  has  sent  us  an  express  to  put  us  on  our 
guard." 

"  For  the  love  of  mince  pies,  I  beseech  you,  sir,  not 
to  mention  those  disagreeable  heretics.  It  benumbs 
my  faculties  at  once,  and  I  have  no  use  of  myself  for 
hours  afterwards." 

"  Will  you  be  pleased,  Master  Gregory,  for  once  in 
your  life,  to  answer  directly  and  categorically  ?  Have 
you  seen  Langley  lately  ?" 

"  Why,  sir,  I  can't  say  directly,  categorically,  or 
positively,  for  there  is  no  trusting  one's  eyes,  to  believe 
what  we  see,  unless  it  conforms  to  the  deductions  of 
science,  and  can  be  demonstrated  on  principles  of  phi- 
losophy. But  if  I  might  trust  any  of  my  five  senses 
I  saw  him  a  little  time  ago  walking  along  shore 
yonder." 

"Along   shore?     Why,    what  has   come   over   the 


192  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

young  blockhead  to  be  rambling  about  alone  by  him- 
self. Has  he  fallen  in  love,  or  grown  poetical  ?" 

"  Why,  sir,  if,  as  I  before  remarked,  my  eyes  did  not 
deceive  me,  I  think  I  saw  something  walking  beside 
him  very  like  a  woman." 

"A  woman!  impossible;  why  they  are  so  scarce  in 
these  parts  they  are  worth  a  hogshead  of  tobacco, 
inspection  and  all.  Are  you  quite  sure  ?" 

"  I  again  aver  that  I  can't  say  positively,  seeing,  as 
I  before  premised,  there  is  no  trusting  the  villanous 
five  senses.  The  other  night  I  thought  I  heard  some 
one  crying  murder,  but  it  turned  out  to  be  only  a 
screech  owl,  and  not  long  ago,  sir — " 

"Gregory  Moth,  let  me  ask  you  one  question: 
Have  you  any  inclination  to  get  your  head  broke  ? 
which  will  certainly  happen  if  you  don't  answer  me 
directly,  and  in  as  feAv  words  as  possible." 

"Honored  sir,"  quoth  Gregory,  "you  doubtless  know 
I  am  a  man  of  few  ideas,  and  consequently  a  great 
multiplicity  of  words.  Allow  me,  by  way  of  illus- 
tration— a  prudent  man,  with  only  one  guinea  in  his 
purse,  will — primo,  divide  it  into  shillings — secundo, 
into  pence — and  tertio,  into  farthings,  before  he  ven- 
tures to  expend  the  least  modicum.  I,  sir,  taking 
example  from  this  judicious  arithmetician,  having, 
figuratively  speaking,  but  one  idea,  essay  to  make  the 
most  of  it  by  sub-dividing  it  grievously." 

"  The  fiend  take  you,  and  your  one  idea  to  boot. 
Was  it  a  real  bona-fide  woman  or  not  ?  Speak,  villain, 
or  die !" 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  193 

"  Patience,  honored  sir,  you  will  drive  ray  one  idea 
to  distraction.  I  opine  it  was  a  woman,  howbeit,  she 
certainly  wore  a  petticoat ;  and,  as  we  used  to  argue 
at  Oxford,  the  man  is  only  a  remote  circumstance  of 
his  dress,  so  may  it  be  logically  inferred  that  a  two- 
legged  animal  wearing  a  petticoat  is  a  woman." 

"  Well,  sirrah,  having  settled  the  species,  can  you 
tell  who  was  the  individual  ?  Was  she  old,  young,  or 
middle-aged — black,  white,  or  copper-colored  ?" 

"  I  am  inclined  to  believe  she  was  not  old,  as  my 
young  master  stuck  pretty  close  to  her  side.  I  draw 
the  logical  conclusion  that  she  was  not  of  a  middle 
age,  for  she  tripped  along  like  a  little  zephyr,  and  I 
pronounce  her  most  emphatically  young,  because  Mas- 
ter Langley,  like  unto  his  father,  has  too  much  discre- 
tion to  consort  at  evening  walks  with  any  other  than 
a  fair,  blooming  damsel,  not  more  than  eighteen  at 
farthest." 

"  Did  you  see  her  face — do  you  think  you  can 
identify  the  hussy  ?" 

"  I  was  not  watching  them,  sir.  I  scorn  it.  But  I 
think  I  may  say,  without  injury  to  my  reputation  for 
veracity,  that  it  was  the  little  Crop-eared  damsel." 

"  Impossible,  Gregory,  quite  impossible.  I  have 
forbid  him  all  communication  with  any  of  the  family." 

"Hem,"  quoth  Gregory,  "now  I  am  certain  of  it." 

At  this  critical  moment  Langley  returning  from  his 

evening  stroll,  in  what  some  unlettered  people   aptly 

call  a  fit  of  distraction,   stumbled    against  Gregory 

Moth,  whose  pipe  he  shivered  into  countless  pieces. 

9 


194  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

and  as  usual,  when  people  are  themselves  in  fault 
gave  him  a  broadside  for  standing  in  his  way.  The 
loss  of  a  pipe  was  thought  more  of  in  those  times  than 
taking  the  benefit  of  "  The  Act"  is  now-a-days,  as  it 
could  not  be  repaired  within  less  than  a  score  or  two 
of  miles.  But  Gregory  was  a  philosopher,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  pick  up  the  pieces  with  great  deliberation. 
After  which,  like  a  wise  man,  he  took  his  departure  to 
see  if  he  could  not  mend  the  matter." 

"  "Where  have  you  been,  sir,"  asked  the  father, 
rather  sharply. 

"  Taking  a  walk,  sir,"  replied  Langley. 

<•<  Where?" 

"  Along  the  river  side,  sir." 

"  With  whom  ?" 

"  With  Miriam  Habingdon,  sir." 

"  Why,  didn't  I  forbid  your  entering  the  door  of  that 
confounded  Crop-ear  again  ?" 

"  I  have  not  entered  his  door,  sir.  Our  meeting  was 
quite  accidental,  though  I  acknowledge  we  walked 
together  afterwards.  I  accompanied  her  to  the  gate 
of  her  father's  lawn,  but  did  not  go  in." 

"  Well — well — I  believe  every  word  you  say.  But 
did  it  not  occur  to  you,  that  you  were  breaking  your 
promise — at  least  the  spirit  of  your  promise,  if  not  the 
word  of  my  command  ?" 

"Why,  sir" — replied  Langley,  smiling — "I  confess 
it  did  come  across  me,  after  our  walk  was  ended,  that 
such  might  be  the  case.  But  really,  I  can't  think 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  195 

there  was  any  great  harm  in  availing  myself  of  a  mere 
accident." 

11  Perhaps  so — you  may  be  of  that  opinion,  sir — but 
I  have  my  reasons,  which  as  they  are  no  concern  of 
yours,  I  shall  not  trouble  you  with.  I  have  my  rea- 
sons, sir,  for  prohibiting  not  only  your  going  to  the 
Crop-ear's  house,  but  associating  either  by  accident  or 
design  with  any  of  the  family,  most  especially  his 
daughter.  I  must  beg  of  you  then,  sir,  to  understand 
this  in  future,  accident  or  no  accident ;  if  you  see 
Miriam  Habingdon  coming  towards  you,  turn  about 
and  make  tracks  as  if  the  old  Harry  himself  were  com- 
ing. If  you  see  her  going  another  way,  you  must 
turn  short  about." 

"  And  follow  her  ?" — said  Langley,  laughing  rather 
irreverently. 

"  No,  sir — I  tell  you,  no — you  must — you  must — go 
to  the  d — 1."  And  the  indignant  Cavalier  turned  into 
the  house  and  sought  his  bed,  it  being  his  custom  to 
retire  early  to  roost,  except  when  he  had  a  few  boon 
companions  from  the  other  side  of  the  river  to  keep 
him  awake. 

The  reader  will  recollect  it  had  been  voluntarily 
settled  between  the  two  young  people,  that  they  should 
meet  no  more.  Langley  was  content  to  accede  to  the 
arrangement,  since  he  cherished  no  feeling  towards 
Miriam  strong  enough  to  prompt  him  to  resist  the 
will  of  his  father.  "  Why  then,"— thought  he,  as  he 
lay  that  night  on  his  pillow,  "  why  should  my  father 


196  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

so  peremptorily  forbid  what  I  had  no  intention  of 
doing  ?  There  must  be  some  special  reason  for  this 
unwonted  exercise  of  his  authority,  and  now  I  recol- 
lect he  said  something  about  secret  motives.  What 
can  they  be  ?  It  is  not  possible  that  a  mere  difference 
in  politics  and  religion  can  estrange  two  families 
residing  so  near  each  other,  and  having  no  neighbors 
within  a  distance  of  many  miles.  In  this  remote 
region  surely  the  bitter  feelings  of  hostility  which 
were  awakened  in  the  old  world,  by  mutual  rivalry 
and  bloodshed,  cannot  exist  in  such  rank  maturity  as 
to  produce  fruits  like  these.  What  can  it  mean  ?"  he 
again  asked  himself,  and  again  the  thought  came  over 
him  that  his  father  was  apprehensive  of  an  attachment 
between  himself  and  Miriam.  This  set  him  musing 
on  the  probability  of  such  an  event ;  and  in  order  to 
weigh  the  subject  dispassionately,  he  recalled  to  mind 
the  simple  dress  and  unstudied  gracefulness  of 
Miriam ;  he  dwelt  on  her  piety,  which  had  something 
poetical  in  its  mode  of  expression ;  her  love  of 
flowers,  so  indicative  of  a  pure  taste  and  delicate  sen- 
sibility, and  her  perception  of  the  grandeur  and  beauty 
of  nature,  characteristic  of  a  pious,  elevated  soul. 
From  these,  by  a  very  natural  transition,  his  memory 
and  his  fancy  together,  conjured  up  a  vivid  and  exag- 
gerated picture  of  her  exuberant  chestnut  hair,  which 
curled  about  the  snow-white  cheek,  which  never 
glowed,  save  when  her  heart  beat  rapidly,  and  her 
large,  pensive,  penetrating  eyes,  sometimes  in  despite 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  197 

of  themselves,  sparkled  of  other  joys  than  those  of 
Heaven. 

The  end  of  all  this  was,  that  Master  Langley  began 
to  think  there  might  be  some  reason  for  his  father's 
apprehensions,  and  entered  on  a  rigid  self-examination 
which  resulted  in  the  conclusion  that  the  thing  was 
possible.  In  the  midst  of  these  cogitations,  it  cannot 
be  denied,  that  a  rising  spirit  of  opposition,  a  feeling 
so  often  conjured  up  by  what  are  deemed  unreasonable 
exactions  of  parental  authority — was  awakened  in  the 
bosom  of  the  son. 

"How  can  those," — continued  Langley,  resuming 
his  silent  soliloquy — "  How  can  those,  that  like  my 
father,  who,  though  loyal  to  his  sovereign,  has  learned 
in  this  new  world  of  unrestricted  reason  to  scorn  the 
slavish  doctrine  of  passive  obedience  and  non-resis- 
tance— how  can  they  deny  the  application  of  this  prin- 
ciple to  a  tyrant  king,  and  apply  it  to  a  tyrant  father ! 
I  am  a  man — I  reason,  and  I  draw  conclusions.  If 
left  to  myself,  I  can  take  care  of  myself,  in  danger 
and  difficulty.  I  am  past  the  age  of  correction,  I 
should  no  longer  be  commanded.  When  rational 
beings  differ  in  tastes,  opinions,  and  principles,  are 
they  to  break  each  other's  heads,  if  strangers  ;  or  if 
they  stand  in  the  relation  of  parent  and  child — the 
latter  arrived  at  years  of  discretion — is  it  for  the  father 
to  command  at  will,  and  the  son  to  obey  against  the 
impulses  of  his  heart,  and  the  convictions  of  his  under- 
standing ?  Where  then  is  the  authority  of  the  parent 


198  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

to  cease,  and  the  freedom  of  the  child  to  commence  ? 
The  law  says  at  one-and-twenty — but  I  am  not  moot- 
ing a  question  of  law — hum — um — urn."  Here  he 
began  to  grow  sleepy.  "  The  difference  between  what 
is  reasonable,  and  what  is  not,  is  assuredly  very  plain 
if  one  could  only  see  it ;  but  like  black  and  white,  the 
edges  may  be  so  blended  together  that  it  is  impossible 
to  tell  where  one  begins  and  the  other  ends."  So 
Langley  fell  asleep,  and  again  dreamed  of  the  little 
Crop- ear. 

Precisely  at  the  same  moment  the  Cavalier  was 
haranguing  his  son,  the  Roundhead  was  questioning 
his  daughter,  in  a  different  style,  but  in  the  same 
spirit,  and  on  the  same  subject  ;  another  proof  that 
the  destinies  of  these  young  people  were  spun  from 
the  same  distaff.  He  inquired  where  she  had  been 
walking,  with  a  cold  gravity  that  savored  of  unkind- 
ness,  a  feeling  far  from  his  heart,  for  he  loved  his 
daughter  almost  as  dearly  as  his  own  stubborn  will. 
Miriam  stated  the  simple  truth,  without  hesitation, 
and  without  &  single  tell-tale  blush  to  impeach  her 
veracity,  or  betray  a  latent  feeling.  The  mother,  who 
was  present,  saw  with  the  unerring  instinct  of  woman, 
that  it  was  a  mere  common-place  affair ;  but  the 
father,  who  was  rather  too  much  given  to  holding  a 
tight  rein,  when  the  steed  had  no  disposition  to  run 
away,  took  occasion  to  express  his  disapprobation  of 
her  rambling  forth  alone. 

"  Do  you  think  there  is  any  danger,  father  ?"  said 
Miriam.     "  If  you  do  I  will  not  go  out  alone  again. 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  199 

though  I  own  I  love  the  quiet  summer  twilight  along 
the  river.  It  makes  me  feel  so  calm,  and  awakens  so 
many  agreeable  fancies." 

"  Miriam,"  replied  Harold,  "  knowest  thou  not  that 
the  indulgence  of  the  imagination  is  dangerous  to 
youth  !  It  lures  us  astray  from  the  path  we  are  des- 
tined to  tread  in  this  weary  pilgrimage,  rough  as  it  is, 
and  leads  to  a  worse,  among  thorns  and  briars." 

"But  lather,  does  it  not  sometimes  lead  us  among 
the  roses,  as  well  as  the  thorns  ?" 

"Yea,  daughter,  to  inhale  their  fragrance  for  a 
moment,  and  suffer  for  years  from  the  wounds  they 
inflict.  The  pilgrims  of  this  world  are  destined  to 
cope  with  that  which  is  real,  not  that  which  has  no 
existence  ;  and  they  who,  according  to  profane  lan- 
guage, build  castles  in  the  air,  will  peradventure  be 
crushed  by  their  fall." 

"  Ah  !  father,  it  may  be  so.  But  when  I  am  ram- 
bling alone  amid  the  delights  of  nature,  breathing  of 
sweets — seeing  naught  but  what  is  pleasing  in  my 
eyes,  and  grateful  to  my  heart,  I  cannot  keep  my 
mind  within  the  narrow  limits  of  reality.  Methinks, 
I  dream  rather  than  feel ;  I  seem  to  live  in  some  other 
world,  more  beautiful  even  than  this,  and  fancy  a  hap- 
piness I  never  felt,  and  never  expect  to  feel.  Yet  is  it 
delicious  to  my  heart,  and  like  the  reflected  glories  of 
the  sky  at  summer  twilight,  is  far  more  soothing  and 
gentle,  than  the  real  presence  of  that  sun,  from 
whence  they  derive  their  lustre." 

Harold  gazed  on  her  awhile  in  silence.    He  wondered 


200  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER 

where  she  learned  to  feel  thus,  and  to  express  herself 
in  such  glowing  terms.  He  forgot  she  was  young, 
and  that  her  teacher  was  that  same  Nature,  which 
inspires  the  glorious  love  of  song,  gives  magic  to  the 
strains  of  the  musician,  and  teaches  the  artist  almost 
to  outdo  his  teacher.  For  a  moment  or  two,  he  con- 
templated her  with  all  the  proud  affection  of  a  parent, 
but  again  relapsed  into  his  usual  frame  of  mind.  He 
had  sacrificed  all  for  religion,  and  religion  was  all  to 
Him.  Though  he  partook  in  moderation  of  the  enjoy- 
ments of  life,  he  persuaded  himself  it  was  because 
they  were  essential  to  existence,  and  not  for  the  grati- 
fication of  the  senses.  He  grudged  himself  and  his 
household  any  pleasure  or  relaxation  that  had  not 
reference,  in  some  way  or  other,  to  what  he  called  the 
one  thing  needful.  Thus  his  home  was  gloomy,  his 
face  gloomy,  and  all  around  him  partook  in  the  infec- 
tious gloom.  His  presence  was  a  restraint,  and  his 
absence  a  relief. 

"  Dost  thou  not  know,  Miriam,"  at  length  he  said, 
"  that  such  thoughts  and  feelings  are  carnal  and 
wicked,  seeing  they  lead  astray  from  those  higher  pur- 
poses which  should  be  perpetually  before  our  eyes  and 
in  our  hearts  ?  But  this  is  not  what  I  wished  to  say 
just  now.  My  object  was  to  warn  you  against  con- 
sorting with  that  profane  and  unbelieving  youth,  Mas- 
ter Langley  Tyringham." 

"  Unbelieving,  father  !"  exclaimed  Miriam,  then 
suddenly  checking  herself,  "I  do  not  consort  with 
him.  Our  meeting,  as  I  told  thee,  was  accidental, 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  201 

and  will  not  be  repeated.  His  father  had  forbidden 
him  to  come  here." 

This  information  grated  harshly  on  the  feelings  of 
Harold.  His  besetting  sin  of  spiritual  pride  reared  its 
head  aloft,  and  the  serpent  hissed  in  his  ear.  "  What 
an  insult,  in  one  of  the  imps  of  ungodliness  to  forbid 
the  intercourse  of  a  sinner  with  one  of  the  saints  !  It 
is  as  if  the  spirit  of  darkness  should  turn  his  back  in 
disdain  on  the  spirit  of  light."  True,  it  was  calculated 
to  bring  about  the  very  thing  he  was  himself  aiming 
at.  Yet  he  was  deeply  mortified  that  the  first  move- 
ment had  not  come  from  him.  He  had  long  since 
persuaded  himself  that  his  temper  was  entirely  sub- 
dued ;  a  dangerous  delusion,  since  it  throws  us  off  our 
guard,  and  induces  us  to  drop  the  reins  when  they 
should  be  most  firmly  grasped.  It  is  true  he  was  able 
to  repress  all  outward  expression  of  passion ;  but  the 
spirit  of  forgiveness  was  not  within  him.  He  swal- 
lowed his  anger  and  it  turned  to  gall.  On  this  occa- 
sion he  answered  Miriam  in  his  usual  measured  tone 
without  any  appearance  of  passion : 

"  Thou  shalt  see  the  young  man  no  more.  If  not 
an  unbeliever  he  is  one  of  those  who  have  perverted  the 
precepts  of  the  only  true  faith.  His  sect,  his  family, 
and  his  father,  have  been  the  persecutors  and  revilers 
of  thy  father,  thy  mother,  and  thy  whole  race.  They 
scourged  and  mutilated  thy  grandfather,  who  died  in 
my  arms  on  the  field  of  Naseby,  a  martyr  to  his  faith ; 
they  drove  thy  mother  and  grandmother  from  their 
homes,  and  made  them  outcasts  :  and  they  and  their 


202  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS   DAUGHTER. 

friends  have  banished  me  and  mine,  from  that  peace- 
ful home  which  had  sheltered  my  forefathers  for  eight 
hundred  years,  to  this  howling  wilderness,  to  murder 
or  be  murdered  by  the  savage  Indians.  Yet  here,  even 
here  in  the  boundless  solitudes  of  nature,  the  whip  is 
brandished  over  our  heads,  the  viper  spits  his  venom, 
and  the  scorner  continues  to  scorn.  We  are  not,  I 
find,  permitted  the  free  enjoyment  of  our  consciences 
even  here,  for  I  have  this  day  been  apprised  that  we 
must  attend  at  the  church  which  has  persecuted  us  to 
death,  and  hear  ourselves  and  our  faith  contemned,  or 
ridiculed,  or  pay  a  fine  for  liberty  to  stay  away. 
Miriam,  my  daughter,  wouldst  thou  mingle  thy 
thoughts,  or  hold  communion  with  one  who  has  nei- 
ther sympathy  for  our  wrongs,  respect  for  our  faith,  or 
feeling  for  our  sufferings  ?  Surely  the  grand-daughter 
of  Isaac  Baneswright,  the  martyr,  will  not  even  wish 
to  do  this  ;  and  here  I  declare  that  never  while  I  live 
— unless  some  dire  necessity  should  occur — if  I  can 
prevent  it,  shalt  thou  see  or  speak  to  him  more." 

"  I  do  not  wish  it,  father,"  answered  Miriam  some- 
what sadly — "  thy  wishes  shall  be  mine.  I  have 
never  disobeyed  thy  will,  and  trust  I  never  may." 

Harold,  stern  as  he  was,  at  least  outwardly,  was 
softened  by  the  passive  obedience  of  his  daughter,  and 
said  to  her  kindly, 

"  Now  go  to  thy  rest,  my  child,  and  shut  thine  eyes 
like  yonder  flower  that  closes  its  leaves  against  the 
dew  of  night.  Commend  thyself  to  Heaven,  and  sleep 
in  peace." 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  203 

Miriam  did  not  sleep  in  peace.  The  quiou  current 
of  her  innocent  thoughts,  which  had  hitherto  flowed 
along  almost  without  a  ripple,  or  a  murmur,  was  dis- 
turbed. She  thought  to  herself — "  Surely  the  spirit  of 
our  faith  cannot  be  that  of  mercy  and  forgiveness,  or 
my  father  would  not  be  so  bitter  against  poor  Langley. 
He  never  persecuted  or  slandered  us,  I  am  sure ;  he 
is  too  noble  and  generous  for  that  ;  though,  I  confess, 
I  never  thought  much  of  him,  till  I  heard  he  was  for- 
bidden to  see  me.  What  can  my  father  mean  by  my 
marrying  Langley  ?"  The  attentive  reader  will  recol- 
lect that  Harold  had  not  said  a  word  about  matrimony. 
"  I  am  sure  I  have  never  dreamed  of  such  a  thing,  but 
now  he  has  put  it  into  my  head,  I  dare  say  I  shall 
think  of  nothing  else,  can  it  be  possible  that  Langley 
wishes  to — to — what  nonsense  !  But  if  he  don't,  how 
strange  that  my  father  should  forbid  what  is  never 
likely  to  happen."  Thus  she  lay  for  hours,  ruminating 
on  love  and  marriage,  mixed  up  with  Langley  Tyring- 
ham — a  most  dangerous  concatenation.  At  length  she 
fell  asleep,  with  a  weight  on  her  heart,  without  being 
able  to  tell  exactly  to  what  cause  it  was  owing ; 
whether  to  the  sternness  of  her  father,  or  his  antipathy 
to  such  a  harmless  young  man. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

A  Great  Event  Signalized  by  a  Great  Feast — Transformation  of  a 
Boar's  Head — a  Red  Herring  on  Horseback — Tristrified  Flesh — 
Apology  for  Making  Merry  in  this  Miserable  World. 

ON  the  morning  succeeding  these  decisive  movements 
of  the  Cavalier  and  Roundhead,  the  former  was  sitting 
on  the  piazza  apparently  in  deep  contemplation,  which 
was  interrupted  by  a  sudden  jerk  of  the  body,  an 
elevation  of  the  chin  and  a  determined  compression  of 
the  lips,  indicating  that  he  had  arrived  at  a  conclusion. 
Pausing  a  moment,  he  shouted  in  a  loud,  decisive 
voice — 

"  Gregory  Moth !" 

"  Sir  !" 

"  Come  hither — I  want  to  speak  with  you." 

"Here  I  am,  sir,  in  puris  naturalibus — that  is  to 
say,  in  my  own  proper  person." 

"  G-regory,  do  you  know  that  Langley  will  come  of 
age  on  Friday  next?" 

"  An  unlucky  day,  sir.  I  thank  my  stars  I  was 
born  on  the  twenty-ninth  day  of  February,  which 
being,  as  it  were,  no  day  at  all,  cannot  be  called 
unlucky." 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  205 

"  Pooh — don't  talk,  sir,  but  listen.  I  mean  to  give 
a  great  dinner  on  the  occasion." 

"  Better  not,  sir — Master  Langley  is  already  rather 
hard  in  the  mouth,  and  depend  upon  it,  if  you  once 
put  the  toga  on  in  him,  he  will  take  the  bit  between 
his  teeth,  and  for  aught  we  know  run  right  into  the 
arms  of  the  little  Crop-ear  damsel." 

"  No  danger  of  that,  Gregory.  Has  he  not  pro- 
mised not  to  go  near  the  house,  and  you  know  as  well 
as  I,  he  is  a  man  of  his  word." 

"  Sir,  in  the  course  of  my  study  and  observation  of 
men,  manners  and  customs,  as  well  as  the  instincts  of 
animals,  I  have  never  failed  to  notice  that  they  all,  man 
and  beast,  have  a  pernicious  hankering  after  forbidden 
fruit,  insomuch,  that  I  am  fully  wrought  into  the 
conviction  that  were  they  permitted  to  do  as  they 
liked,  they  would  never  go  out  of  their  bounds." 

"A  most  logical  conclusion,  worthy  the  famous 
wild  boar  that  swallowed  a  volume  of  Aristotle.  Re- 
lieve them  from  all  restraint  and  they  will  not  require 
to  be  restrained.  Eh?  But  have  done  with  your 
nonsense,  I  am  determined  to  celebrate  this  auspi- 
cious day  by  a  grand  dinner.  I  shall  invite — " 

"  The  Roundhead  gentleman,  I  suppose,  for  he  is 
the  only  Christian  man,  besides  ourselves,  in  twenty 
miles  round,  at  least  on  this  side  the  river." 

"  No,  sir,  not  the  Roundhead.  Do  you  call  him  a 
Christian  man  ?  Why,  the  fellow  don't  believe  in  the 
bishops.  I  mean  to  invite  the  Governor  and  council, 
the  general-in-chief,  the  judge,  the  doctor,  and  the 


206  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

parson,  who,  you  know,  is  not  one  of  your  water- 
drinking  dissenters." 

"  No,  he  never  dissents  from  good  wine ;  conforms 
exactly  to  a  bowl  of  punch  ;  and  swallows  the  thirty- 
nine  articles  in  as  many  bumpers." 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  sir,  who  has  a  better  right  to 
drink  than  a  man  with  a  quiet  conscience  ?  But 
we'll  have  the  dinner,  I'm  determined,  so  set  about 
making  provision  without  delay.  Let  me  see — ah — 
yes — a  haunch  of  venison  at  both  ends — " 

"  By  your  leave,  sir,"  interrupted  Gregory,  "  I 
would  respectfully  and  reverentially  recommend  a 
boar's  head  at  one  end  of  the  table,  with  a  lemon  in 
liis  mouth,  and  a  red  herring  riding  away  on  horse- 
back, to  come  on  with  the  second  course,  after  the 
good  old  fashion  of  king  Brute  and  his  valiant  Tro- 
jans, who,  accompanied  by  certain  Greek  philosophers, 
came  into  Britain,  and  reached  a  place  called  Bellosi- 
tum,  afterwards  Oxenford,  where  they  feasted  lustily 
on  wild  boars,  and  laid  the  foundation  of  that  ancient 
seat  of  learning,  eleven  hundred  years  before  the  Chris- 
tian era." 

"  Confound  me  if  I  believe  a  word  of  it.  But  I 
have  no  objection  to  the  boar's  head,  and  the  red  herring 
riding  on  horseback,  for  I  think  the  latter  will  be  a 
new  dish  in  these  parts.  But  for  all  that,  I  don't 
believe  one  word  about  king  Brute  and  his  valiant 
Trojans.  "Why  don't  you  go  back  to  your  favorite  era, 
the  creation.  That  is  an  excellent  starting  point." 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  207 

"  You  don't,  worthy  sir  ?  If  you  had  broached  such 
a  doubt  at  Oxford,  you  would  have  been  expelled,  as 
you  told  me  the  great  John  Locke  had  lately  been,  for 
heresy,  or  something  else.  You  ought  to  have  flour- 
ished at  the  time  when  the  study  of  Greek  was  con- 
sidered little  better  than  heresy,  and  ego  legit,  and 
ego  currtt,  held  to  be  good  Latin." 

The  Cavalier  seemed  to  pay  little  attention  to 
this  display  of  learning.  He  sat  apparently  in  a  fit  of 
abstraction  for  a  few  minutes — then  began  nodding 
his  head  and  rubbing  his  hands — concluding  by  pass- 
ing the  back  of  his  right  hand  briskly  across  the  end 
of  his  nose,  right  and  left,  as  was  his  custom  when 
tickled  by  any  idea  passing  in  his  mind. 

"Ah,  Moth,  those  were  pleasant  times  at  Oxford — 
hey  ?  Do  you  recollect  the  bonfire  we  made  in  the 
college  walk  on  the  Prince's  birth-day,  in  spite  of  the 
Crop-ear  proctors  ?" 

"And  do  you  remember,"  said  Gregory,  "the  plot 
of  the  students  to  expel  the  Crop-ear  Garrison  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  that  you  got  tipsy  drinking  small  beer, 
fell  asleep  on  your  favorite  seat,  The  Penniless  Bench, 
as  it  was  called,  and  being  waked  up  by  the  morning 
gun,  was  so  frightened  that  you  let  out  the  whole 
secret." 

"  And  lucky  was  it  for  you  all,  sir ;  for  I  opine  that 
if  we  had  carried  our  plot  into  execution,  we  should 
have  been  terribly  drubbed  by  the  Ironside  Crop-ears, 
and  the  survivors  expelled  incontinently.  I  peached 
from  pure  humanity,  sir." 


208 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 


"  Very  well,  so  be  it.  Now  go  and  make  your  pre- 
parations, and  mind  there  is  no  scarcity." 

"  They  shall  have  as  much  as  they  can  swallow, 
sir." 

"  Six  times  as  much,  Gregory.  It  don't  become  a 
Virginia  planter,  and  Cavalier  to  boot,  to  stint  his 
guests.  But  now  I  think  of  it,  where  the  deuce  is  the 
Boar's  Head  to  come  from — eh  ? 

"  Sir,"  said  Gregory  proudly,  "  did  you  ever  know 
me  to  propose  anything  that  could  not  be  done.  You 
know  there  are  many  swine  that  have  strayed  away 
into  the  forest,  and  become  wild  boars,  to  all  intents 
and  purposes.  You  will  send  your  forester  to  shoot 
one  of  these,  whether  sow  or  boar  is  of  no  consequence. 
If  he  should  fail,  I  will  go  and  catch  a  sturgeon,  and 
send  up  his  head  instead.  If  you  ply  the  guests  well 
with  punch  before  dinner,  they  won't  know  the  differ- 
ence." 

"  Good — right,  Gregory,  and  if  any  man  except  the 
Governor  and  the  parson  questions  its  being  a  boar's 
head,  I'll  call  him  out.  So  now  go  at  the  business, 
and  I'll  consult  Mistress  Tyringham,  about  the  pud- 
dings. There  shall  be  a  plum  pudding  at  each  end  of 
the  table,  and  two  in  the  middle." 

The  guests  were  bidden,  the  invitations  accepted — 
all  but  the  governor,  who  was  ill  with  the  gout — for 
when  people  live  a  great  distance  from  each  other,  they 
are  always  most  anxious  to  meet — the  wild  boar  was 
not  shot,  and  the  red  herring  mounted  on  horseback, 
ready  for  a  drive.  The  excellent  Mistress  Tyringham 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  209 

smiled  at  the  boar's  head  and  the  red  herring,  besides 
hesitating  a  doubt,  as  to  the  six  plum  puddings. 
But  being  a  sensible  woman,  she  quietly  acquiesced 
in  any  reasonable  matter  that  pleased  her  husband. 

The  day  at  length  arrived,  and  with  it  the  guests, 
who,  in  those  days,  were  accustomed  to  come  betimes, 
in  order  to  whet  their  appetites  for  dinner  by  certain 
libations  of  punch,  as  that  unequalled  beverage,  mint 
julep,  was  not  yet  discovered.  It  was  the  product  of 
a  more  enlightened  period,  and  doubtless  stands  first 
among  those  improvements  which  give  one  age  a  deci- 
ded superiority  over  another. 

Gregory  Moth  was  among  the  immortals.  He  had 
determined  to  celebrate  the  majority  of  his  young  mas- 
ter royally,  first,  because  he  had  a  great  affection  for 
the  young  man,  secondly,  because  he  had  a  still  greater 
attachment  to  good  liquor :  accordingly,  like  a  prudent 
man  he  began  early,  and  was  tolerably  well  ballasted 
before  dinner.  At  the  instant  the  guests  entered  one 
door  of  the  dining-room,  Gregory,  as  had  been  con- 
certed with  his  master,  came  into  the  other,  bearing 
the  boar's,  or  rather  sturgeon's  head,  most  elaborately 
disguised,  and  singing  a  stave  of  a  classical  old  song — 
which  ran  as  follows — 

"  The  boar's  head  in  hand  bear  I, 
Bedeck'd  with  bays  and  rosemary  ; 
And  I  pray  you,  masters,  merry  b8, 
Quot,  quot  estis  in  convivio." 

"Which  was  received  with  great  applause. 


210  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

The  commander-in-chief,  who  in  his  youth  had 
served  a  campaign  or  two  in  Germany,  was  first  help- 
ed, Mistress  Tyringham,  as  is  often  the  case  among 
good  housewives,  having  exerted  herself  so  zealously 
in  manufacturing  the  six  plum  puddings,  that  she  was 
obliged  to  go  to  bed  with  a  headache.  At  the  first 
taste,  the  general-in-chief  crossed  his  knife  and  fork, 
and  looked  doubtingly.  The  judge  tried  it  twice,  that 
he  might,  as  it  were,  hear  both  sides  ;  the  doctor  look- 
ed as  if  he  had  swallowed  one  of  his  own  prescriptions  ; 
and  the  parson,  as  if  he  had  swallowed  a  Jesuit  or 
a  Presbyterian.  Master  Tyringham  did  not  know 
whether  to  laugh  or  be  angry ;  Langley,  who  was  not 
in  the  secret,  wondered  at  the  general  abstinence ; 
Gregory  stuffed  a  napkin  into  his  mouth,  and  the  gen- 
tlemen of  color  in  waiting  showed  a  vast  quantity  of 
ivory. 

The  general-in-chief  tasted  again,  and  again  laid 
down  his  weapons. 

"  It's  d d  fishy  ;  I  ask  your  pardon  for  swear- 
ing in  your  presence,  parson,"  said  he,  turning  to  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Truehart,  \vho  sat  next  him. 

"  Truly,  it  has  an  ancient  and  fish-like  smell," 
replied  he,  quoting  "Will  Shakspeare. 

"  Yes,  and  taste,  too,"  said  the  general.  "  I  have 
eaten  of  a  boar's  head  more  than  once,  in  Bohemia, 
but  I'll  sw»ar  it  did  not  taste  like  this.  I  say,  Tyring- 
ham, where  did  this  boar  come  from  ?" 

w  Why,  Gregory  says  he  was  shot  somewhere  in  the 
forest,  yonder." 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  211 

"  I  should  rather  suppose  it  was  in  the  river,  for 
between  you  and  me,  it  tastes  more  like  fish  than 
flesh." 

Here  Gregory,  seeing  his  master  at  fault  for  an 
answer,  made  a  diversion  in  his  favor. 

"  If  the  general-in-chief  will  permit  me,  it  is 
dressed  after  the  manner  of  King  Brute  and  his  vali- 
ant Trojans,  with  crab  sauce.  Besides,  sir,  the  wild 
boars  often  come  down  to  the  river  to  feed  on  the 
clams  and  periwinkles,  which  give  them  a  fishy  taste 
sometimes." 

"  That  is  a  curious  fact  in  natural  history,  Mr. 
Truehart.  You  who  are  fond  of  such  studies  should 
investigate  the  matter,"  said  the  general  aside  to  his 
neighbor. 

By  this  time  a  general  titter  circulated  round  the 
table,  and  the  Cavalier  began  to  perceive  the  joke  was 
turning  against  him,  especially  when  the  doctor 
exclaimed,  "  A  sturgeon's  head,  by  all  the  gods,"  and 
burst  into  a  roar  of  laughter.  He  debated  within  him- 
self whether  to  call  out  the  doctor,  make  Gregory  the 
scapegoat,  or  make  an  honest  confession.  Being  both 
bold  and  generous,  he  determined  on  the  last  course, 
and  told  the  whole  story.  The  sturgeon's  head,  so  far 
from  disturbing  the  harmony  of  the  company,  only 
occasioned  a  more  general  merriment.  Gregory  was 
quizzed  unmercifully  about  the  boar's  head,  and  the 
red  herring  riding  on  horseback  ;  while  the  general- 
in-chief  took  occasion  to  tell  the  story  of  a  servant  of 
his  from  the  old  country,  who  being  sent  out  to  pro- 


212  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

cure  a  sheep's  head,  instead  of  a  fish  brought  back  the 
head  of  a  fine  old  ram  with  magnificent  horns.  But 
Gregory  stood  fire  like  a  hero ;  at  every  shot  he  rein- 
forced his  courage  with  a  stiff  glass  of  punch,  and 
came  off  with  flying  colors.  Though  a  systematic 
tippler,  he  never  got  fairly  seas  over,  or  lost  the  com- 
mand of  his  head  or  his  legs.  He  resembled  those 
tempers  which  are  easily  pushed  to  a  certain  point, 
beyond  which  they  are  immovable.  Like  a  bottle,  the 
fuller  he  was  the  stiffer  he  stood. 

The  rest  of  the  dinner  went  off  swimmingly.  The 
venison  and  wild  turkey  amply  atoned  for  the  stur- 
geon's head  ;  the  bacon  and  greens  were  received  with 
the  honors  of  a  national  dish,  and  the  plum  puddings 
met  with  universal  acceptation.  Poor  Langley  was 
called  upon  so  often  to  exchange  bumpers  in  honor  of 
the  occasion,  that  he  became  at  last  oblivious,  and 
fell  asleep  in  his  chair ;  whereupon  the  Cavalier  winked 
to  the  company  and  said — "  Now  that  the  old  gentle- 
man has  retired,  suppose  we  young  fellows  make  a 
night  of  it.  Come,  a  toast,  and  a  song  from  the  doc- 
tor." The  master  of  the  seven  sciences,  who  valued 
himself  on  his  singing,  toasted  "  Church  and  King," 
and  forthwith  followed  it  up  with  rare  Ben  Jonson's 
exquisite  song,  "  Drink  to  me  only  with  thine  eyes," 
which  he  sung  with  great  unction,  but  repeated  the 
chorus  so  often,  that  the  general-in-chief  at  length 
exclaimed — "  Doctor,  how  many  eyes  had  this  same 
lady?  I  think  she  must  have  had  as  many  as  a 


THB    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  213 

.amprey.  Your  song  has  as  many  eyes  as  a  peacock's 
tail,  or  a  piece  of  bird's-eye  maple." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  doctor,  good  humoredly,  "  she  saw 
double,  like  some  of  the  present  company,  that  shall 
be  nameless." 

The  laugh  went  against  the  general-in-chief,  who 
was  fined  a  stupendous  bumper  for  interrupting  the 
song  ;  and  not  to  give  offence  to  scrupulous  folks  by 
descending  to  further  particulars,  the  merriment  was 
kept  up  far  into  the  night,  and  the  morning  dawned 
on  a  set  of  quiet  gentlemen  peaceably  sleeping  in  their 
chairs.  The  scrupulous  reader  may  be  assured  that 
not  a  single  one  of  them  was  under  the  table,  and  that 
they  maintained  the  strictest  silence  and  decorum. 
This  circumstance  will,  it  is  hoped,  make  some  atone- 
ment for  our  having  introduced  a  scene,  with  a  view 
to  illustrate  the  manners  of  the  times.  For  so  doing, 
we  earnestly  hope  forgiveness  from  all  conscientious 
tetotalers,  especially  those  who  convert  abstinence 
from  one  sin  into  a  license  for  indulging  half  a  dozen 
others.  This  is  said  to  be  not  altogether  uncommon, 
as  was  exemplified  in  the  case  of  the  Italian  robber, 
who  quieted  his  conscience  for  the  habitual  commis- 
sion of  murder  by  scrupulously  abstaining  from  flesh 
on  Fridays.  But  however  this  may  be,  there  are  cer- 
tainly many  sins  more  grievous  than  making  merry 
occasionally  with  our  friends,  provided  we  don't  disturb 
our  conscientious  neighbors. 

It  has  been  or  it  might  be  truly  remarked,  that 
though  you  may  exclude  the  air  from  escaping  out  of 


214  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

a  bottle,  it  is  impossible  to  do  so  with  a  secret.  Cork 
it  up  as  tightly  as  you  will,  seal  it  hermetically  if  you 
please,  but  it  will  be  just  as  vain  as  to  attempt  to  hold 
an  eel  by  the  tail.  This  is  most  especially  the  case  in 
the  country  ;  and  what  is  very  remarkable,  people  that 
live  at  a  distance  from  each  other,  are  almost  always 
the  soonest  enlightened  by  such  disclosures.  The 
carousal  of  the  old  Cavalier,  however,  was  not  intended 
to  be  kept  secret  in  the  first  instance.  But  certain 
incidents  which  are  here  related,  rendered  it  desirable 
that  the  point  of  honor  metaphorically  conveyed  by  the 
classic  phrase  of  "Under  the  Rose,"  should  be  observed. 
Yet  by  some  means  or  other,  never  fully  developed, 
the  particulars  of  the  whole  affair,  greatly  exaggerated, 
were  in  less  than  twelve  hours  conveyed  to  the  ears 
of  Harold  Habingdon  and  his  family,  by  telegraph  or 
otherwise.  It  was  said  that  the  old  Cavalier  had 
sacrilegiously  set  fire  to  the  parson's  wig,  and  that  the 
latter  had  swore  like  a  trooper  on  the  occasion  ;  that 
the  judge  had  not  only  nodded  on  the  bench,  but 
pitched  head  foremost  under  the  table ;  that  the 
general-in-chief  had  cleared  the  board  of  bottles  and 
glasses,  sword  in  hand ;  that  the  doctor  had  sung  such 
vulgar  and  indecent  songs,  that  Mistress  Tyringham 
was  obliged  to  leave  the  table ;  and  finally  that  Master 
Langley  had  signalized  his  majority,  by  getting  super- 
latively corned,  and  fighting  a  pitched  battle  with 
Gregory  Moth. 

The  dislike  of  Harold  towards  the  old  Cavalier  was 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  215 

by  these  rumors  increased  to  disgust.  Almost  every 
man  has  his  peculiar  horror  of  some  one  particular  vice 
or  foible,  and  the  antipathy  of  Harold  was  drinking, 
though  he  was  in  truth  rather  addicted  to  good  eating, 
and  was  apt  to  be  a  little  ruffled  at  an  ill-cooked  din- 
ner. But  so  it  is.  Habit  and  custom  is  everything. 
In  Russia  and  China,  it  is  no  disgrace  to  be  cudgelled ; 
while  among  the  people  of  Europe,  and  emphatically 
among  Americans,  a  blow  is  considered  an  indelible 
stain  on  manhood,  and  is  never  submitted  to  without 
incurring  contempt  and  disgrace.  What  is  held  inde- 
cent and  barbarous  in  one  place,  is  perhaps  the  high- 
est ton  in  another ;  and  in  all  the  wide  circumference 
of  this  world,  there  are  not  two  nations  that  agree 
exactly  in  their  estimate  of  manners  or  morals.  All 
have  their  different  standards,  and  all  might  learn  from 
this  diversity,  to  abstain  from  offensive  scurrility,  or 
contemptuous  airs  of  superiority. 

Miriam,  too,  was  highly  indignant  at  the  backsliding 
of  Langley  Tyringham,  though  she  certainly  had  no 
right  whatever  to  be  angry.  "What  was  he  to  her,  or 
she  to  him — nothing.  They  were  to  be  strangers  in 
future,  and  there  was  no  reason  in  the  world  why  she 
should  care  a  straw  if  he  got  fuddled  every  day.  Still 
she  felt  angry,  as  well  as  sorry.  It  was  a  great  pity, 
she  thought,  that  so  clever  a  youth  should  thus  throw 
himself  away,  by  becoming  addicted  to  an  odious, 
beastly  vice.  Above  all,  when  her  fancy  pictured  him 
engaged  in  a  drunken  fight,  with  Gregory  Moth,  she 


216  THE    I'llUTAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

turned  from  him  in  disgust,  and  resolved  to  think  of 
him  no  more.  Whether  she  kept  this  resolution,  will 
be  best  known  from  a  perusal  of  our  second  volume. 


END     OF     VOL.     I. 


THE  PFBITAN  AND  HIS  DAUGHTER. 


THE  PUEITAN 


HIS    DAUGHTER 


J.   K.  PAULDING, 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  DUTCHMAN'S   FIRESIDE,"  ETC. 


VOLUME  II. 


NEW  YORK: 
BAKER    AND     SCRIBNER, 

145   NASSAU  STREET  AND   36   PARK  ROW. 

1849. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  rear  1849,  by 
BAKER    AND    SCRIBNER, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern 
District  of  New  York. 


Stereotyped  and  Printed  by 

C.   W.    BENEDICT, 

901  William  street. 


CONTENTS   OF  VOL,   II. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAGE 

A  Preface  which  Ought  to  Have  Preceded  the  First  Volume  of 
This  Work. 9 

CHAPTER  II. 

A  Forest  Scene— The  Wild  Man  in  the  Wild  Woods— A  Short 
Speech  Worthy  the  Imitation  of  the  Wisdom  of  Congress— An 
Ingenious  Mode  of  Trying  the  Patience — A  Thunder  Storm — 
The  White  Man  Asleep  when  He  should  be  Wide  Awake  .  13 

CHAPTER  III. 

A  Scene  not  Uncommon  in  the  Early  Settlements  of  the  New 
World — Obstinacy  of  the  Roundhead — A  Massacre  and  a  Siege 
— Unparalleled  Achievement  of  Gregory  Moth — Langley  Dis- 
tinguishes Himself — A  Providential  Shower  and  its  Conse- 
quences— A  Scene,  and  a  Reflection 18 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Resuscitation  of  Gregory  Moth— How  Accident  sometimes  Discon- 
certs the  Projects  of  Wise  Men — Decisive  Consequences  of 
Turning  to  the  Right  instead  of  the  Left — Sensible  Cogitations 
of  a  Young  Man  about  Falling  in  Love— Another  Accident 
Leading  to  a  Long  Task,  which,  as  Is  commonly  the  Case,  Ends  . 
in  Nothing  particular.  ,. 39 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Miriam  Sets  an  Example  to  all  Dutiful  Daughters — Poses  Her 
Mother  with  a  Knotty  Question — Some  Prosing  about  Hum- 
drum Domestic  Matters — A  Love  Scene  between  Mildred  and 
Gregory  Moth — Sketch  of  a  Character,  and  sundry  Other  Mat- 
ters  53 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Return  from  the  Wars — The  Cavalier  and  Roundhead  Like  Each 
Other  the  Less,  the  Better  They  Become  Acquainted — Specific 
for  Dispersing  a  Fog — A  Communication  Ending  with  Some- 
thing like  a  Declaration .72 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Another  Example  Set  by  Miriam,  which  Young  Ladies  may  Fol- 
low in  a  Similar  Predicament,  or  not,  just  as  They  Please — Har- 
old again  Acting  on  Principle — The  Cavalier  Becomes  Unrea- 
sonable, and  Refuses  to  Consider  the  Matter,  lest  He  Should 
Come  to  a  Wrong  Decision — Is  Hugely  Tickled  with  the  Vision 
of  an  Angel,  Which  Is  Put  to  Flight  by  a  Woman— How  to 
Manage  an  Unreasonable  Husband — The  Cavalier  both  Aston- 
ished and  Enraged — Indites  a  Challenge,  but  Is  Prevented  from 
Sending  It,  by  the  Discretion  of  Gregory  Moth.  .  .  52 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  Little  Truth,  by  Way  of  a  Treat— Causes  and  Consequences- 
Harold  Transgresses  the  Law  by  Obeying  the  Gospel— Inconve- 
nience of  being  a  Justice  of  the  Peace— The  Justice  Seeks 
Counsel  from  a  Wise  Fool,  like  the  Illustrious  Penurge — Har- 
old once  more  before  a  Magistrate — Is  Fined  and  Adopts  an  Im- 
portant Resolution — Soliloquy  of  the  Justice,  which  Begins 
very  sensibly,  but  Ends  in  Nothing.  .  .96 


CONTENTS.  Vii 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Unaccountably  Perverse  Conduct  of  Miriam — A  Message  by  Greg- 
ory Molh,  who  Makes  Mischief — An  Evening  in  the  South, 
which  actually  Ushers  in  an  Apology  for  a  Love  Scene,  which 
will,  it  is  feared,  not  altogether  Satisfy  the  Reader,  for  Want  of 
Sufficient  High  Seasoning— A  Last  Parting.  .  .  .110 

CHAPTER  X. 

A  Deserted  Mansion — Captain  Skeering — An  Extraordinary  Voy- 
age without  Tempest  or  Shipwreck — Arrival  at  Naumkeag — 
State  of  Affairs  there— Mildred  Suspected  of  Witchcraft— A 
Pilgrimage  through  the  Wilderness — Scene  on  a  River — Excom- 
munication of  the  Demon  of  Water  Power— End  of  the  Pil- 
grimage.    .  .  .  .  .  125 

CHAPTER  XI. 

The  New  Home— Statistical  View  of  a  Young  Lady's  Heart— A 
Conversation — A  Loss  Never  to  be  Repaired — Two  Griefs  Bet- 
ter than  One-*-The  First  Grave  in  the  Church-Yard.  .  .138 

CHAPTER  XII. 

A  Sage  Observation — Change  in  the  Habits  and  Character  of  the 
Roundhead — Harold  Questions  his  Daughter  on  a  Very  Delicate 
Subject — Arrival  of  a  Welcome  Visitor — A  Walk  to  the  Sum- 
mit of  a  Mountain— And  What  They  Saw  There— The  Judge 
of  a  King 151 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

A  Living  Rival  to  a  Dead  Man — Some  Account  of  a  Man  with  a 
Good  Character  at  Home,  and  an  Indifferent  One  Abroad — Ap- 
proved System  of  Courtship  which,  however,  Does  not  Succeed 
—The  New  Suitor  Thinks  Miriam  is  Looking  in  a  Strange 
Place  for  a  Husband.  .......  .163 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Symptoms  of  Trouble — The  Church  in  Danger — An  Apparition 
Appears,  Disappears,  and  Is  never  Seen  again — A  Fatal  Acci- 
dent— A  Conversation  and  a  Death — The  Pagan's  Offering — Old 
Servants— Old  Friends— A  Sonnet.  .  170 


Viii  CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 
CHAPTER  XV. 

Miriam  Alone  in  the  World — The  Good  Pastor  Falls  Asleep  in 
His  Pulpit — One  of  Job's  Comforters — A  Suitor  Non-suited  be- 
fore Commencing  His  Suit — New  Laws  and  New  Emigrants — 
Consequence 179 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

Progress  of  a  Panic— Ingenious  Device  of  Master  Tobias  Harps- 
field  for  Winning  a  Wife— Description  of  a  First-Rate  Witch- 
Miriam  Accused  of  Witchcraft 190 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

Miriam  Examined  before  the  Magistrates  and  Committed  to  Prison 
on  the  Evidence  of  Old  Cat— Visit  of  Condolence  by  Tobias 
Harpsfield  and  its  Consequences — Trial  and  Condemnation  on 
the  Testimony  of  the  Devil 199 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

The  Self-Punishment  of  the  Guilty — An  Apparation — Exorcism 
of  Mildred  who  Joins  in  Accusing  her  Young  Mistress  of 
Witchcraft— The  Ghost  Vanishes  Suddenly,  but  shortly  Appears 
again  to  Miriam — Particulars  of  the  Interview.  .  .  .  209 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

In  which  the  Author,  after  Vindicating  Himself  from  a  Serious 
Charge,  and  Disclosing  a  Great  Secret,  Takes  a  Retrospect  by 
Way  of  Accounting  for  the  Appearance  of  the  Ghost.  ^  217 

CHAPTER  XX. 

Retrospect  Continued 228 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
Retrospect  Continued.        ......         .          .  240 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

Retrospect  Concluded.  i 246 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
Poor  Miriam  Habingdon ! — All  Human  Means  of  no  Avail — A 

Last  Interview 251 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
The  Last  Scenes  in  the  Drama 260 


THE  PURITAN  AND  HIS  DAUGHTER, 


CHAPTER     I. 

A    PREFACE    WHICH    OUGHT    TO    HAVE    PRECEDED    THE    FIRST 
VOLUME    OF    THIS    WORK. 

IT  hath  been  a  mooted  point  with  that  class  of  philo- 
sophical inquirers,  which  so  usefully  occupies  itself 
with  discussions  that  can  never  be  brought  to  a  con- 
clusion, whether  the  age  gives  the  tone  to  literature, 
or  literature  to  the  age.  It  is  a  knotty  question,  and 
not  being  of  the  least  consequence  to  any  practical 
purpose,  it  will  be  passed  over  with  the  single  remark, 
that  it  is  quite  useless  for  an  author  to  write  in  good 
taste  if  the  public  won't  read,  and  equally  idle  for  the 
public  to  cherish  a  keen  relish  for  polite  literature,  if 
there  are  no  authors  to  administer  food  to  its  appetite. 
It  is  certain,  however,  that  owing  either  to  the 
excessive  refinement  and  intelligence  of  the  age,  or  it 
may  be,  to  causes  directly  the  contrary,  the  present 
taste  of  the  venerable  public  is  exceedingly  carni- 


10  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

verous.  If  any  conclusion  can  be  drawn  from  those 
classical  productions  which  are  so  industriously  hawked 
about  by  the  genuine  representatives  of  the  illustrious 
"  Dicky  Doubt,"  who,  by  an  allowable  figure  of 
speech,  may  be  called  the  handmaids  of  the  Muses, 
there  must  be  an  exceedingly  voracious  appetite  in  the 
reading  community  for  all  sorts  of  breaches  of  morality 
and  breaches  of  the  peace,  not  omitting  smothering, 
poisoning,  and  suicide.  Authors  do  not  mind  commit- 
ting murder  in  cold  blood,  or  perpetrating  any  other 
atrocious  crime,  any  more  than  they  do  borrowing  an 
idea  from  some  old,  forgotten  writer ;  and  the  most 
timid,  delicate,  nervous  lady  in  the  land,  who  would 
shriek  at  the  apparition  of  a  caterpillar,  or  run  away 
from  a  butterfly,  is  now  so  accustomed  to  battles,  rob- 
beries, poisonings,  and  assassinations,  that  it  would 
not  be  altogether  surprising  if  we  some  day  hear  of 
one  of  the  elite,  after  going  the  rounds  of  polite  litera- 
ture, and  committing  a  few  murders  in  the  way  of 
poisoning,  together  with  some  other  fashionable  et 
ceteras — not  proper  to  mention  by  name,  though  the 
thing  itself  is  highly  aristocratic — should  make  a  bril- 
liant exit  by  blowing  up  a  whole  square  of  houses 
and  perishing  in  their  ruins. 

There  was  a  time — it  was  in  the  dark  ages,  previous 
to  the  apotheosis  of  phrenology  and  animal  magnetism 
— there  was  a  time  when  the  records  of  crime,  and 
those  exhibitions  of  human  depravity,  which  disgrace 
the  name  of  man,  and  make  angels  weep,  were  con- 
fined to  the  romance  of  the  police,  and  the  last  dying 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  11 

speeches  of  convicted  and  converted  murderers.  A 
taste  for  these  was  considered  as  characteristic  only  of 
the  vulgar  and  depraved,  and  they  seldom  ascended  to 
the  parlor  or  the  drawing-room,  except  by  stealth.  At 
present,  however,  it  appears  that  the  most  fashionable 
species  of  romance  is  a  sort  of  Newgate  calendar,  in 
which  the  crimes  and  depravity  of  the  lowest  and 
worst  species  of  real  human  beings,  are  cast  into  the 
shade  by  the  creation  of  imaginary  monsters. 

The  reader,  however,  is  not  to  conclude  from  these 
preliminary  remarks  that  we  meditate  the  presump- 
tion of  finding  fault  with  the  prevailing  taste  for  blood 
puddings,  and  concentrated  soup  of  depravity.  On 
the  contrary,  with  the  amateurs  of  thorough-going 
barbarity  and  wickedness,  we  are  perfectly  willing  to 
defer  to  the  taste  of  the  venerable  public  for  that  spe- 
cies of  meritorious  romance,  which,  if  anything  can 
achieve  it,  will  assuredly,  in  the  shortest  possible  time — 
with  the  aid  of  the  "  diggings"  of  California — bring 
about  that  Grolden  Age,  when  the  saint  and  the  assas- 
sin shall  lie  down  in  peace  together  ;  when  the  sword 
shall  be  turned  into  a  bowie  knife  or  a  revolving  pis- 
tol ;  firemen  meet  at  midnight  conflagrations  without 
broken  heads  and  bloody  noses ;  and  last  and  greatest 
miracle  of  all,  the  bright  star  of  Bethlehem  cease  to 
be  the  torch  of  discord. 

We  are  full  of  hope  that  the  time  is  not  far  distant, 
when  the  human  heart  shall  become  so  mellowed  and 
humanized  by  being  accustomed  to  these  pictured 
horrors,  these  atrocious  crimes,  and  this  total  degrada- 


12  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

tion  of  the  human  species  exhibited  in  polite  literature 
that  certain  portions  of  select  readers  should  in  time 
lose  all  perception  of  the  distinction  between  virtue 
and  vice,  and  the  good  and  bad  mingle  together  in 
perfect  harmony.  Thus  the  world  might  at  length 
be  brought  to  a  perfect  good  understanding,  and  no 
more  blood  be  shed,  except  in  romances. 

Doubtless  the  experiment  is  worth  the  trial,  and  we 
propose  hi  this  our  second  volume  to  flourish  the  besom 
of  destruction  somewhat  liberally.  Hitherto,  we  have 
only  killed  two  or  three  honest  people,  in  fair  fight, 
and,  as  yet,  not  one  of  our  actors  is  qualified  for  a  hero 
of  romance.  But  we  shall  do  better  in  future,  by 
introducing,  in  due  time,  a  gentleman  so  utterly 
divested  of  any  attribute  that  might  redeem  him  from 
abhorrence,  that  he  cannot  fail  to  conciliate  the  favor 
of  the  judicious  reader.  It  shall  go  hard  with  us,  too, 
if  we  don't  commit  a  most  exemplary  murder  soon.  If 
it  comes  not  in  our  way,  we  will  seek  it.  If  we  can't 
kill  by  retail,  which  is  much  the  most  emphatic  and 
striking,  we  will  go  at  it  by  wholesale,  and  demolish 
entire  communities  without  regard  to  age,  sex,  color 
or  condition.  Should  all  our  resources  fail,  we  will 
murder  our  story  and  smother  ourselves  with  charcoal 
to  escape  public  justice. 


CHAPTER  II. 

A  Forest  Scene— The  Wild  Man  in  the  Wild  Woods— A  Short  Speech 
Worthy  the  Imitation  of  the  Wisdom  of  Congress — An  Ingenious 
Mode  of  Trying  the  Patience — A  Thunder  Storm — The  White  Man 
Asleep  when  He  Should  Be  Wide  Awake. 

IN  the  depths  of  the  vast  primeval  forest,  where 
echo  had  never  replied  to  the  axe  of  the  woodman — 
the  great  instrument  of  civilization,  or  the  long  re- 
sounding burst  of  the  hunter's  rifle— on  the  margin  of  a 
nameless  lake,  where  dark  waters,  though  pure  as  the 
skies,  reflected  no  object  of  the  earth,  was  assembled 
a  band  of  red  men,  a  race  made  for  the  shade,  as  the 
white  man  is  for  the  sunshine.  The  lake  was  several 
miles  in  circumference,  and  lay  in  the  centre  of  swamps 
whose  limits  were  almost  undefinable,  and  its  approaches 
at  that  period  only  known  to  the  savages  who  roamed 
its  borders.  It  was  a  gloomy,  wild,  fantastic  scene, 
silent  as  death,  and  melancholy  as  the  grave,  yet 
decked  with  a  profusion  of  flowers,  and  flowering  vines 
of  gorgeous  tints  and  various  odor,  that  "  wasted  their 
sweetness  on  the  desert  air."  There  every  production 
of  nature,  around  the  margin  of  the  lake  seemed  to 


14  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

spring  out  of  the  water ;  for  the  land,  if  so  it  might  be 
called,  was  nothing  but  floating  earth,  that  quivered 
like  a  jelly  under  the  light  foot  of  the  Indian.  Vast 
cypress  trees,  with  slender  limbless  trunks  and  tufted 
heads  towering  to  the  skies,  and  rocking  with  the 
slightest  breeze,  rose  from  the  water  apparently  self- 
supported  on  its  surface  ;  and  with  the  exception  of  a 
level  spot  on  the  southern  shore  which  loomed  some 
ten  or  twelve  feet  above  the  surface  of  the  lake,  the 
entire  margin  was  one  dead  level  morass  of  decayed 
vegetables  saturated  with  moisture.  A  numb  and 
moody  silence  reigned  far  and  near  ;  no  woodland  min- 
strel caroled  his  joyous  notes  in  these  pathless  wilds, 
whose  unapproachable  recesses  were  never  cheered  by 
the  rays  of  the  sun  even  in  winter,  for  the  trees  were 
all  evergreens  and  knew  no  change  of  seasons.  At 
intervals  during  the  day,  a  lonely  woodpecker,  the 
hermit  of  the  forest,  might  be  heard  tapping  some 
rough-barked  tree  ;  and  sometimes  the  monarch  eagle 
was  seen  in  solitary  majesty  resting  on  a  dry  limb, 
silent  and  motionless,  as  if  he  were  the  guardian  genius 
of  this  gloomy  empire. 

The-  hour  was  near  midnight,  and  a  large  fire  around 
which  a  crowd  of  dusky  figures  were  moving  back 
and  forth,  tinged  the  melancholy  cypress  trees  with  a 
silvery  lustre,  and  threw  a  long  line  of  light  athwart 
the  dark  water.  It  was  an  Indian  council  of  the  sur- 
rounding tribes,  whose  deputies  had  met  together  at 
this  secret  hour,  in  this  secret  haunt,  to  devise  the  plan 
of  a  general  attack  on  the  intruding  white  man,  and 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  15 

practice  those  preliminary  rites,  which  were  always 
the  precursors  of  war  to  the  knife.  It  is  the  charac- 
teristic of  the  savages  of  North  America,  that  they 
have  always  some  old  injury  to  remember,  or  some  new 
one  to  avenge.  Though  without  historians  to  record 
their  wrongs,  they  never  forget  them ;  and  a  legacy  of 
revenge  is  handed  down  from  generation  to  generation. 
Time  never  heals  these  wounds,  however  slight ;  and 
when  these  motives  are  wanting,  a  dream  interpreted 
to  suit  the  purpose,  a  whim  of  some  old  woman,  a 
fraud  of  some  mountebank,  or  a  real  or  pretended 
desire  to  appease  the  spirits  of  the  dead,  is  sufficient 
to  rouse  the  ever  restless  savage  to  war  and  rapine. 

A  war  was  now  in  contemplation  which  not  merely 
involved  a  single  tribe,  but  all  the  tribes  within  reach 
of  the  influence  of  the  colony,  together  with  their 
allies,  and  which  had  for  its  object  the  utter  extermi- 
nation of  the  whites,  as  well  as  the  total  destruction 
of  their  property.  The  civilized  and  savage  men  are 
two  dry  sticks  ;  rub  them  together  and  they  take  fire. 
The  causes  which  produced  this  combination  of  the 
Indian  tribes  were  such  as  seem  innate  and  insepa- 
rable from  the  irreconcilable  relations  of  savage  and 
civilized  man,  and  will  be  passed  over,  as  not  material 
to  our  story.  At  the  moment  of  which  we  are  speak- 
ing, the  final  decision  had  been  made  ;  the  deputies  of 
all  the  tribes  were  agreed  ;  the  plan  of  operations  con- 
certed, and  nothing  now  remained  but  to  practice  those 
religious  rites  and  warlike  ceremonies  customary  on 
such  occasions. 


16  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

A  chief  who  had  fasted  till  the  vapors  of  an  empty 
stomach  had  ascended  to  his  brains,  and  half-crazed 
his  intellect,  now  came  forward  and  addressed  the  dark 
assemblage  as  follows : — 

"  Brothers,  I  have  had  a  dream.  The  great  Spirit 
appeared  to  me  in  the  shape  of  a  bear,  and  said  :  The 
blood  of  your  brothers  is  not  yet  wiped  away.  It 
smokes  from  the  ground.  The  spirits  of  your  fathers 
are  not  appeased.  They  wander  about  the  spot  where 
they  fell,  and  disturb  me  with  their  shriekings.  You 
must  go  and  take  scalps,  burn  houses,  lay  waste  tobacco 
fields,  and  eat  the  long-knives.  Say  to  your  young 
men,  take  courage,  dress  your  hair,  paint  your  faces, 
sharpen  your  tomahawks  till  you  cannot  feel  their 
edge,  for  the  Great  Spirit  is  with  you.  Gro  and  avenge 
the  dead,  that  their  spirits  may  no  longer  wander  on 
the  face  of  the  earth,  howling  like  hungry  wolves.  The 
long-knife  is  fast  asleep — go  and  wake  him." 

This  speech  was  answered  by  a  shrill,  withering  howl, 
that  quavered  through  the  silent  air,  and  awaked  the 
echoes  from  their  sleep.  Songs,  filled  with  boastings 
of  exploits  that  might  make  the  hair  stand  stiff,  were 
sung,  followed  by  a  succession  of  dances,  rehearsing 
the  vicissitudes  of  war,  and  the  various  manoeuvres  of 
Indian  tactics,  all  exhibiting  a  variety  of  strange, 
grotesque  motions,  accompanied  by  harsh,  dissonant 
music.  When  these  were  ended,  the  aged  warriors 
proceeded  to  test  the  self-command  of  the  young  braves 
who  offered  themselves,  for  the  first  time,  as  candidates 
for  service,  and  were  to  act  under  the  immediate  orders 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  17 

of  the  great  war-chief.  It  was  a  maxim  with  these 
strangely  wise  barbarians,  that  no  man  possessed  true 
courage  who  is  not  master  of  his  temper,  on  all  oc- 
casions. Nature  is  more  knowing  than  most  people 
think  her. 

The  old  warriors,  accordingly,  inflicted  every  possible 
insult,  provocation,  and  outrage  on  the  young  candi- 
dates. They  called  them  cowards,  women,  and  threat- 
ened to  dress  them  in  petticoats ;  they  accused  them 
of  running  away  from  bears  and  wolves,  nay,  even  the 
timid  deer ;  they  made  faces  at  them,  followed  by  the 
most  contemptuous  gestures  ;  they  beat  them  with 
cudgels,  pricked  them  with  knives ;  and,  as  a  last 
effort,  threw  hot  coals  and  blazing  brands  at  their 
heads.  All  this  was  borne  with  the  most  stoical  indif- 
ference, for  if  any  one  had  exhibited  the  least  sign  of 
pain,  anger,  or  impatience,  he  would  have  been  con- 
sidered disgraced,  and  unworthy  to  go  forth  to  battlo 
with  men.  After  this  came  the  great  war  feast, 
consisting  entirely  of  the  flesh  of  dogs,  which,  be- 
ing their  most  valuable  possession,  was  offered  up 
to  Areskoue,  the  god  of  battles.  The  feast  being 
ended,  they  extinguished  the  fire,  and  slowly  departed 
to  their  respective  wilds,  chaunting  the  song  of  death. 
The  silence  of  the  grave  succeeded  their  departure,  but 
their  next  coming  was  the  signal  for  groans  of  agony, 
shrieks  of  despair,  and  shouts  of  demoniac  triumph. 


CHAPTER    III. 

A  Scene  not  Uncommon  in  the  Early  Settlements  of  the  New  World 
— Obstinacy  of  the  Koundhead — A  Massacre  and  a  Siege — Unpar- 
ralled  Achievement  of  Gregory  Moth — Langley  Distinguishes  Him- 
self—A Providential  Shower  and  its  Consequences — A  Scene  and 
a  Reflection. 

THE  inhabitants  of  the  colony,  who  were  by  these  bar- 
barous ceremonies  devoted  to  destruction,  remained 
not  only  ignorant,  but  unsuspicious  of  the  destiny  at 
hand.  So  many  false  reports  and  unfounded  alarms 
had  of  late  followed  in  succession,  and  passed  away, 
that  they,  as  a  natural  consequence,  only  produced  an 
additional  feeling  of  security.  The  savages  had  con- 
cealed their  purpose  with  consummate  art,  and  the 
infant  of  the  new  world  lay  sleeping  in  its  cradle,  uncon- 
scious that  the  serpent  was  coiling  around  him.  Every 
station  on  either  side  of  the  river,  except  the  capital, 
which  was  too  strongly  guarded  for  their  simple  tac- 
tics— nay,  every  house  was  marked  out,  and  a  body  ?f 
Indians  expressly  devoted  to  its  destruction.  The  plan 
was  laid  with  a  cruel  sagacity,  and  executed  with 
equal  silence  and  celerity.  Not  a  human  being,  white 
or  black,  would  have  escaped,  but  for  the  compunction 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  19 

of  a  half-civilized  Indian,  who  paid  the  debt  of  grati- 
tude by  betraying  his  brothers. 

He  was  one  of  a  small  tribe  which,  some  years  pre- 
vious to  this  period,  had  been  nearly  exterminated  by 
the  victorious  Iroquois,  the  few  survivors  of  which  had 
sought  refuge  among  the  Indians  of  the  South,  and 
were  received  by  adoption.  Among  them  was  a  little 
lad,  who,  being  ill  of  body,  and  worn  out  by  a  long, 
wearisome  journey,  was  dropt  by  the  way,  and  finally 
fell  into  the  hands  of  Master  Tyringham,  where  he 
became  the  companion  of  Langley,  then  a  boy  of  about 
the  same  age.  By  degrees  he  grew  to  be  a  favorite  ; 
shared  in  Langley's  studies,  amusements,  and  occupa- 
tions, until  finally  scarcely  any  difference  appeared 
in  the  treatment  of  the  white  man's  son,  and  the  In- 
dian boy.  They  became  greatly  attached  to  each 
other,  and  but  for  the  difference  of  color  might  have 
passed  for  brothers. 

Somewhere  about  the  age  of  sixteen,  Langley  was 
sent  to  pass  the  winter  at  the  capital,  with  a  friend  of 
his  father,  with  a  view  to  polishing  his  manners,  by 
intercourse  with  the  little  community,  among  which 
were  many  persons  of  liberal  education  and  high  breed- 
ing, some  of  whom  had  figured  at  courts  in  their  day. 
Circumstances  prevented  the  Indian  boy  from  accom- 
panying him,  and  he  was  left  behind.  From  that 
moment  he  became  melancholy  and  discontented.  He 
no  longer  paid  any  attention  to  his  studies,  insomuch 
that  Gregory  Moth  prognosticated  that  the  Indian 
blood  was  up,  and  that  nature  was  becoming  too 


20  THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS    DAUGHTER. 

strong  for  habit.  His  days  were  spent  in  wandering 
through  the  woods,  or  paddling  on  the  river,  and  finally 
he  disappeared  to  return  no  more. 

On  the  day  succeeding  the  scene  sketched  in  the 
preceding  chapter,  as  Gregory  was  early  in  the  morn- 
ing scouring  the  wood  in  search  of  wild  turkeys,  he 
was  half-frightened  out  of  his  wits,  by  the  sudden 
apparition  of  an  Indian,  who  approached  him  without 
arms,  making  signs  of  peace.  "Whether  Gregory 
understood  or  not  is  a  question,  but  certain  it  is,  that 
at  this  instant  his  gun  went  off,  but  happily  without 
doing  any  injury.  The  savage  still  approached,  and 
coming  up  said  with  a  smile — 

"  Your  gun  is  bewitched,  Master  Gregory." 

Gregory  trembled  like  a  leaf,  and  replied  only  by  the 
chattering  of  his  teeth.  The  other  then  asked,, 

"  Don't  you  know  me  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Gregory,  somewhat  restored  by  his  gen- 
tle voice,  and  pacific  deportment — "  No,  my  acquaint- 
ance is  not  very  extensive  among  gentlemen  of  your 
complexion." 

"  That  is  rather  strange.  I  was  once  a  scholar  of 
yours." 

"  Hah  !"  quoth  Gregory — eyeing  him  closely,  "  a 
scholar  of  mine!  Let  me  look  at  you — but  don't 
come  a  step  nearer.  Why — why — if  it  is  not  our 
Indian  boy,  I  am  a  blind  beetle.  Where  did  you  come 
from,  where  are  you  going,  and  what  brought  you 
here,  after  playing  my  master  such  a  trick,  you  un- 
grateful salvage  ?" 


THE    PURITAN   AND    HIS   DAUGHTER.  21 

"  True,  I  am  a  savage,  and  will  speak  to  you  in  the 
style  of  my  native  home.  Listen — 1  see  a  black  cloud 
in  the  sky." 

"Where?"  said  Gregory,  looking  upwards — "  I 
don't  see  it." 

"No— the  long-knife  is  asleep.  He  don't  see  any- 
thing. The  cloud  will  burst  soon,  and  then  he  will 
wake  too  late." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that?  Speak  out  like  a 
Christian,  can't  you." 

"  The  Great  Spirit  is  angry  with  the  long-knives. 
When  the  next  sun  is  high  up  yonder,  he  will  speak 
to  them  in  blood  and  fire." 

"  A  murrain  seize  this  metaphorical  villain," 
thought  Gregory,  "he  is  as  obscure  as  a  Pagan  ora- 
cle. I  say,  speak  out.  I  can't  understand  your  gib- 
berish. Its  all  Greek  to  me." 

"  The  Indian  talks  his  talk,  and  the  white  man  his. 
But  I  will  try  to  speak  with  the  double  tongue.  Run 
— fly  like  the  deer  to  your  master,  and  tell  him  from 
me,  that  this  day — at  the  middle  of  the  day,  when  the 
white  man  is  resting  from  his  labors,  the  red  men  will 
spring  from  the  woods,  like  hungry  wolves,  and 
devour  them  all  at  a  single  meal.  Tell  him  from  me, 
to  make  the  most  of  the  few  hours  yet  left  him,  or 
woe  to  him  and  his  !"  He  paused  a  moment  and 
added,  "  I  have  been  ungrateful  to  the  white  man  for 
his  kindness,  and  am  ashamed  to  meet  him.  Tell  him 
the  Indian  cannot  fight  against  his  adopted  tribe,  nor 
join  them  in  scalping  the  white  man  who  has  fed  him* 


22  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

He  will  go  and  seek  some  other  tribe  far  away.  Be 
quick,  long-knife,  they  will  come  at  noon — let  it  not 
be  night  to  you  all."  Thus  saying,  he  bent  his  course 
towards  the  West,  and  was  never  seen  again.  His 
information,  for  a  time,  almost  paralyzed  Gregory, 
whose  limbs  and  senses  seemed  equally  to  fail  him. 
At  length  he  recovered  to  a  perception  of  his  duty,  and 
winged  by  fear,  made  the  best  of  his  way  home, 
where  he  communicated  his  information  to  his  master. 

It  was  now  verging  towards  eight  o'clock,  of  as  fair 
a  day  as  ever  dawned  upon  the  sunny  South.  Mild, 
gentle,  and  soothing,  .it  irresistibly  disposed  the  mind, 
as  well  as  body,  to  languor  and  repose.  But  the  tale 
of  the  Indian  had  effectually  roused  the  inmates  of  the 
mansion,  which  in  these  early  times,  when  danger 
lurked  behind  every  tree,  had  been  built  with  a  view 
to  defensive  operations,  though  its  materials  were 
principally  of  wood.  There  was  no  other  house  of  any 
pretensions  within  a  distance  of  many  miles,  on  that 
side  of  the  river,  but  that  of  Harold  Habingdon,  which 
was  by  no  means  so  well  adapted  to  resist  the  Indian 
mode  of  attack,  as  that  of  his  neighbor.  In  the  castle 
all  was  hurry,  and  confusion.  The  massacre  was  to 
commence  between  twelve  and  one,  when  the  field 
laborers  would  be  resting  themselves  in  languid  indo- 
lence in  the  shade,  or  fast  asleep  in  their  cabins,  and 
the  masters  shut  up  in  their  mansions  to  avoid  the 
sultry  summer  heat. 

Every  means  of  defence  the  brief  period  would  per- 
mit was  adopted,  and  messages  sent  out  to  give  warn- 


THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS    DAUGHTER.  23 

ing  on  both  sides  of- the  river ;  but,  alas!  too  late.  In 
addition  to  this,  Langley  Tyringham  took  occasion  to 
mention  the  defenceless  state  of  Harold  and  his  family. 
The  old  Cavalier's  spirit  rose  within  him,  not  in  anger, 
but  sympathy.  He  forgot  the  past,  and  only  remem- 
bered the  present  hour,  when  a  common  danger 
demanded  a  common  sympathy. 

"  'Slife — that's  true.  The  Crop-ear  is  more  exposed 
than  we  are,  and  besides  makes  a  point  of.  conscience 
to  offer  no  resistance  in  cases  like  this,  as  he  told  me 
not  long  ago,  when  I  called  to  warn  him  against  the 
savages.  There  is  yet  time — go  to  him.  I  see  there 
a  horse  ready  saddled  at  the  door.  Go,  and  entreat  him 
to  come  hither  instantly  with  his  family  and  people. 
Say  to  him,  from  me,  that  danger  should  make  us 
friends,  and  he  shall  be  welcome.  Be  quick — not  a 
moment  is  to  be  lost — mount  and  away  !  But  mind 
you  don't  suffer  his  obstinacy  to  detain  you  too  long." 

Langley  mounted  the  horse,  and  gallopped  full 
speed  to  Habingdon.  Entering  without  ceremony,  he 
found  Harold  apparently  unconscious  of  the  terrible 
calamity  impending,  and  was  received  by  him  with 
an  ungracious  courtesy,  by  no  means  gratifying. 
Harold  stiffly  inquired  his  business,  which  was  equi- 
valent to  an  insinuation  that  nothing  but  that  would 
excuse  his  visit ;  and  Langley,  without  preface,  com- 
municated his  errand.  Harold  had  previously  wrought 
himself  into  an  obstinate  doubt  of  the  reality  of  the 
danger,  and  positively  declined  the  invitation  of  his 
neighbor.  He  professed  to  rely  on  Providence,  which, 


24  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

as  he  had  never  wronged  the  redmen,  would  doubtless 
incline  their  hearts  in  his  favor.  Langley  besought 
him  to  come  home  to  his  father's.  He  painted  in  few 
words  the  indiscriminate  vengeance  of  the  savage, 
which  spared  neither  age  nor  sex,  and  involved  all  in 
blood  and  fire ;  he  entreated  him,  if  not  for  his  own, 
for  the  sake  of  his  wife,  his  daughter  and  his  depend- 
ents, who  looked  up  to  him  for  protection,  to  accept 
the  invitation  of  his  father,  which  he  assured  him  was 
cordially  given  ;  and  finally  reminded  him  that  the  aid 
of  Providence  was  only  vouchsafed  to  those  without 
other  aid,  or  who  made  every  effort  to  help  themselves. 
The  stern  obstinacy  of  Harold  became  only  more 
rigid  and  inflexible,  under  the  increasing  warmth  with 
which  it  was  assailed.  A  precious  half  hour  was 
wasted,  and  the  young  man  at  length  took  his  depar- 
ture under  the  influence  of  feelings  he  had  never 
experienced  before.  It  was  not  alone  compassion  that 
tugged  at  his  heart,  but  a  stronger  sentiment,  which 
had  been  a  nurseling  in  his  bosom  ever  since  that  wise 
old  gentleman,  his  father,  had  so  judiciously  proclaimed 
his  edict  of  non-intercourse.  The  danger  in  which 
Miriam  was  placed  took  precedence,  nay,  swallowed  up 
all  other  feelings  for  the  moment,  and  he  thought  only 
of  her.  So  young,  so  pious,  so  innocent  and  helpless, 
he  bound  himself  by  a  solemn  vow  she  should  not 
perish  if  he  could  save  her.  On  his  departure  Harold 
apprised  Susan  and  Miriam  of  what  he  had  just  heard, 
his  doubts  of  its  truth,  and  his  determination  to  await 
the  event.  They  heard,  and  submitted  in  silence. 


THE    PURITAN   AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  25 

Susan  had  long  since  acquiesced  in  the  supremacy  of 
her  husband  in  all  cases  not  directly  compromising 
her  conscience,  and  the  religion  of  Miriam  was  that  of 
obedience.  They  retired  and  sought  consolation  in 
prayer. 

Langley  galloped  furiously  home,  and  related  to  his 
father  the  ill  success  of  his  mission.  At  one  time  he 
thought  of  asking  permission  to  return  and  endeavor, 
if  possible,  to  protect  those  helpless  women ;  but  he 
recollected  he  had  higher  duties  at  home,  and  relin- 
quished the  design  with  a  calm  resolution  to  do  his 
duty,  and  submit  in  silence  to  what  seemed  inevitable. 
The  brief  period  preceding  the  expected  attack  was 
employed  in  various  devices  of  defence  which  former 
experience  had  taught  them  ;  and  these  being  com- 
pleted, the  hour  had  come  that  more  than  any  other 
tries  the  strength  of  manhood — the  hour  of  watchful 
caution,  and  of  deep  suspense — the  hour  of  -dread 
anticipation,  ere  action  has  conquered  thought — the 
hour  when  the  arm  is  idle  and  the  fancy  busy. 

It  was  indeed  an  interval  of  dreadful  silence  and 
grim  repose  ;  a  stern,  terrific  calm — a  crisis  that  tried 
the  firmness  of  the  soul,  ere  it  called  forth  the  strength 
of  the  arm.  At  length,  when  the  sun  had  gained  the 
midway  of  the  sky,  Langley,  who  was  on  the  watch, 
suddenly  saw  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  broad  river 
a  hundred  columns  of  smoke,  beginning  slowly  to  rise 
in  various  directions,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach. 
The  land  was  a  rich  alluvial  plain,  extending  many 
miles,  and  constituting  the  most  thickly  settled,  as 

VOL.    II.  2 


26  THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS    DAUGHTER. 

well  as  best  cultivated  portion  of  the  colony.  Here, 
where  every  object  was  distinctly  visible,  he  beheld 
men,  women,  and  children,  white  and  black,  fleeing 
before  the  swift-footed  Indian,  brandishing  his  toma- 
hawk, painted  like  a  demon,  and  yelling  like  a  fiend. 
Here  he  saw  a  white  man  bravely  contending  against 
fearful  odds,  with  all  the  energies  of  despair,  at  last 
cut  down,  scalped,  and  hacked  in  pieces.  There,  and 
everywhere,  there  crowded  upon  his  sight  scenes  the 
most  horrible  and  inhuman — old  men  and  little  chil- 
dren, women  and  half-blown  blooming  girls — all 
shared  the  same  fate  in  that  bloody  hour,  and  were 
offered  up  a  sacrifice  to  savage  vengeance,  perhaps 
savage  wrongs.  It  was  another  of  the  sore  trials 
which  so  often  occur  amid  a  conflict  of  painful  duties, 
that  Langley  was  compelled  to  be  a  witness  of  this 
scene  of  horrors,  without  the  power  of  administering 
aid  to  the  wretched  sufferers;  for  every  moment  a 
similar  attack  was  anticipated.  Still  he  proposed  to 
his  father  to  cross  the  river  in  the  boat,  if  it  were  only 
to  rescue  one  single  victim  from  the  grasp  of  these 
relentless  barbarians. 

"Impossible,"  answered  the  old  Cavalier — "It  will 
be  fatal  to  us,  without  being  of  the  least  service  to 
them.  The  bloody  scene  will  be  over  before  we  can 
cross  the  river,  and  with  only  the  assistance  of  the 
overseer  and  Gregory,  who  is  a  notorious  poltroon, 
what  could  we  do  ?  Unless  our  information  is  erro- 
neous, we  may  expect  an  attack  every  moment,  and 
might  soon  be  called  to  defend  our  own  hearth.  In 


THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS    DAUGHTER.  27 

this  case,  at  least,  charity  begins  at  home,  and  our  first 
duty  is  here.  But,  Langley,"  added  he,  as  if  suddenly 
recollecting  himself — "  there  is  yet  a  few  moments,  I 
hope,  for  another  effort  to  overcome  the  obstinacy  of 
that  frost-bitten  Crop-ear  and  his  family.  For  himself, 
I  care  not — let  him  pay  the  penalty  of  his  folly.  But 
his  poor  wife,  who  really  is  a  kind,  good  soul,  though 
a  little  fanatical — and  little  Miriam,  who,  for  one  of 
the  elect,  is  a  good  sort  of  a  dowdy" — Dowdy !  thought 
Langley — "  they  are  not  to  blame,  and  I  don't  like  the 
idea  of  their  perishing  miserably,  as  they  most  certainly 
will,  if  they  remain  where  they  are." 

"  Shall  I  go  to  him  once  more,"  interrupted  Langley 
impetuously." 

"  Yes — quick  as  lightning  !  take  Fireblood,  who  I 
have  ordered  to  be  kept  saddled,  and  put  him  to  whip 
and  spur.  The  distance  is  but  small,  and  possibly  the 
sight  of  what  is  passing  yonder  may  cool  his  confidence 
in  savage  discriminations.  If  the  Crop-ear  resists, 
knock  him  down,  and  run  off  with  the  women,  whether 
they  will  or  not.  This  is  no  time  for  ceremony.  Be 
off  instantly.  I  would  go  with  you,  only  I  am  sure 
the  Crop-ear  and  I  would  get  into  a  quarrel." 

Langley  required  no  spur,  and  in  less  than  ten 
minutes  had  dismounted  at  Harold's  door.  He  found 
him  contemplating  the  scene  on  the  opposite  shore  with 
deep  and  solemn  emotion. 

"  You  see,  sir,"  said  Langley,  "I  am  here  again,  and 
on  the  same  errand.  You  can  no  longer  doubt  what 
will  be  the  fate  of  yourself  and  family,  if  you  remain 


28  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

here.  Your  only  chance  of  safety  is  in  coming  over 
and  joining  my  father  in  defending  his  house,  which 
is  in  some  measure  prepared.  Once  more,  I  beseech 
you  to  lose  not  a  moment." 

"  I  have  made  up  my  mind,  on  principle,"  replied 
Harold.  "  I  have  not  wronged  these  redmen,  and  I 
anticipate  no  revenge." 

"  Is  this  your  determination  ?" 

"  Unalterably." 

"Where  are  the  ladies,  sir  ?"  asked  Langley,  some- 
what sharply. 

"  Where  they  should  be,"  replied  Harold  ;  "  at  their 
prayers." 

"  Cannot  I  see  them  for  one  moment  ?" 

"  To  what  purpose  ?  But  no  matter — they  are  not 
to  be  seen." 

"  But,  by  heaven,  they  shall  be  seen.  Excuse  me, 
sir.  This  is  no  time  for  ceremony.  Life  and  death 
are  on  the  moment" — and  he  darted  past  Harold  into 
an  inner  room,  where  sat,  or  rather  kneeled,  the  mother 
and  daughter  in  silent  devotion.  The  moment  ho 
entered,  they  rose,  and  Langley  exclaimed,  pointing  to 
Harold,  who  had  followed  him — 

"  Your  husband  and  your  father  is  resolved  you 
shall  stay  here  and  perish  by  the  hands  of  yonder 
savages.  I  come,  on  the  part  of  my  father,  to  entreat — 
to  conjure  him  to  take  refuge  in  his  house,  which  we 
can  defend,  at  least  for  a  time.  But  he  refuses — he  is 
determined  that  you  shall  both  be  murdered,  scalped, 
and  consumed  in  the  flames  of  his  dwelling.  Gro  to 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  29 

him — fall  on  your  knees  to  him — cling  round  his  body — 
clasp  his  knees,  and  pray  him  to  avoid  the  double  crime 
of  sacrificing  you,  and  murdering  himself." 

Thus  saying,  he  took  them  each  by  the  hand,  and 
led  them  to  where  the  father  stood,  apparently  un- 
moved. They  kneeled  at  his  feet — they  embraced  his 
knees — they  caught  his  hands,  bathed  them  with  tears, 
and  besought  him  to  accept  the  offered  refuge. 

"Harold,"  sobbed  the  faithful  wife,  "  remember  we 
are  not  now  suffering  for  conscience'  sake.  We  shall  be 
murdered,  not  martyred.  If  we  die,  it  will  not  be  an 
offering  to  Grod,  in  testimony  of  the  truth,  but  as  vic- 
tims to  the  false  confidence  of  a  husband  and  a  father 
in  the  humanity  of  those  who  never  spare.  Ah !  hark !" 
An  Indian  yell  of  triumph  was  heard  across  the  river, 
announcing  that  the  bloody  work  was  done. 

The  iron  frame  of  Harold  shivered  with  emotion,  and 
his  more  than  iron  will  was  shaken  'to  its  centre  by 
this  appeal.  He  contemplated  the  only  two  beings  that 
bound  him  to  the  earth,  a  few  moments,  in  speechless 
tenderness ;  and,  as  a  second  yell  sounded  in  his  ear, 
raised  up  the  pale  supplicants,  pressed  them  to  his 
heart,  and  the  martial  spirit  of  his  youthful  days  being 
once  again  aroused,  exclaimed — 

"Be  it  so.  My  own  arm  shall  protect  the  'wife  of 
my  bosom  and  the  daughter  of  my  affections.  I  will 
not  trust  them  even  to  heaven." 

Few,  very  few  preparations  were  made,  and  right 
speedily  they  left  the  house  they  were  never  to  revisit 
more.  The  emigrants  consisted  of  Harold,  Susan,  Mi- 


30  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

riam,  and  Mildred — the  affrighted  slaves  being  dis- 
persed in  all  directions,  no  one  knew  whither.  They 
were  received  by  the  old  Cavalier,  with  the  warm  wel- 
come of  a  frank  and  generous  spirit.  His  excellent 
wife — who  we  have  not  yet  mustered  among  our  active, 
disposable  force,  because  we  have  already  as  many 
troops  on  hand  as  we  can  manage — his  excellent 
wife  was  no  way  behind  her  husband  in  hospitable  de- 
monstrations ;  and  the  logical  Gregory,  who  was  suf- 
fering under  a  severe  fit  of  the  ague,  was  greatly  com- 
forted at  the  new  recruits  to  the  garrison,  though  they 
added  to  its  numbers  more  than  its  strength — for 
"Misery  loves  company,"  quoth  Gregory  Moth. 

The  dread  repose  which,  for  a  brief  period,  followed, 
was  at  length  interrupted  by  the  appearance  of  a  band 
of  painted  warriors,  cautiously  emerging  from  the  thick 
forest,  that  extended  from  some  quarter  of  a  mile  dis- 
tance to  heaven  only  knows  where.  Silent  and  cautious 
as  beasts  of  prey  on  their  bloody  midnight  rounds,  their 
dark  faces  were  seen  peeping  from  behind  the  trees, 
and  their  leaders  exchanging  vehement  gestures  with 
each  other.  Being,  at  length,  apparently  satisfied  that 
no  enemy  lurked  in  ambush,  they  advanced  warily 
towards  the  mansion,  exercising  all  their  savage  arts 
in  making  their  approaches,  under  cover  of  the  out- 
buildings, and  keeping  in  the  range  of  that  part  of  the 
house  having  the  fewest  windows  and  doors.  Not  a 
mouse  stirred,  not  a  word  was  spoken  above  a  whisper 
within,  and  the  savages  at  length  concluded  that  the 
place  had  been  abandoned.  Still  with  habitual  caution 


THE    PURITAN   AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  31 

they  advanced,  crawling  like  serpents  in  the  grass,  with 
the  intention  of  plundering  and  setting  it  on  fire. 

The  Cavalier  had  laid  his  plan  of  defence  with  great 
skill,  as  became  an  old  soldier.  The  few  men  were 
placed  at  different  loop-holes,  primed  and  loaded,  with 
positive  directions  not  to  fire,  till  the  order  was  given, 
and  the  women,  having  refused  to  retire  to  an  inner 
apartment,  were  to  supply  the  ammunition  as  it  might 
be  wanted.  The  savage  band  was  still  sliding  along 
in  the  grass,  their  heads  scarcely  visible,  and  every 
gun  was  pointed  with  deadly  aim,  each  at  its  peculiar 
victim,  awaiting  the  word  to  fire,  when  Gregory, 
who  was  placed  at  one  of  the  loop-holes,  in  an  ecstasy 
of  fear,  unconsciously  pulled  the  trigger,  discharging 
his  piece  at  random,  and  without  effect.  The  savages 
uttered  a  yell,  started  up,  and  retreated  under  cover  of 
one  of  the  outhouses. 

"  Victory !  victory  !"  shouted  Gregory,  "  I  have 
routed  the  copper-colored  catiffs.  See  how  they 
scamper." 

His  exultation  was,  however,  speedily  checked  by 
his  master,  who  without  saying  a  word,  seized  him  by 
the  shoulder,  conducted  him  to  the  cellar,  and  locking 
him  in,  put  the  key  in  his  pocket.  An  hour,  or  more 
elapsed  without  the  re- appearance  of  the  redmen,  and 
it  began  to  be  hoped,  that  Gregory  had  indeed  dis- 
couraged them  from  any  further  attacks.  But  this 
hope  was  soon  dispelled  by  the  advance  of  the  enemy, 
from  behind  the  barn,  each  with  a  lighted  torch.  It 
was  evidently  their  intention  to  fire  the  house,  and 


32  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

force  its  inmates  either  to  perish  in  the  flames,  or  come 
forth  to  meet  even  a  more  cruel  death.  Again  every 
gun  was  pointed  with  a  steady  aim,  and  at  a  signal 
from  the  old  Cavalier  the  fire  was  given — three 
savages  fell,  and  some  others  limped  off  in  the  rear,  as 
the  main  body  retreated  once  more  to  their  cover, 
yelling  with  rage  and  disappointment. 

Another  pause  ensued — a  dreary  pause — filled  up 
by  the  spectacle  of  the  conflagration  of  Harold's  resi- 
dence, which  was  distinctly  seen  from  that  of  Master 
Tyringham.  A  detachment  from  the  beseiging  party 
had  plundered,  set  it  on  fire,  and  were  dancing  like 
demons  around  the  ruins.  The  fugitives  contemplated 
the  spectacle  in  silent  sorrow ;  but  the  thought  of 
what  would  have  happened  had  they  been  there,  recon- 
ciled them  to  their  loss,  and  they  were  grateful.  A 
new  and  nearer  danger  now  presented  itself.  The 
savages  were  seen  emerging  from  behind  the  stables, 
pushing  a  wagon  laden  with  straw  before  them,  and 
which  almost  completely  protected  them,  as  they 
advanced.  There  was  no  doubt  as  to  their  object, 
which  was  to  set  fire 'to  the  straw,  when  the  wagon 
was  near  enough  to  communicate  it  to  the  building. 
This  manoeuvre  at  once  baffled  all  their  previous 
arrangements  for  defence.  There  was  no  time  to  con- 
cert means  to  counteract  it,  and  each  man  was  left  to 
his  own  resources.  It  was  in  vain  they  kept  up  a 
continued  fire  ;  the  Indians,  sheltered  behind  the  straw, 
escaped  their  aim,  and  continued  pushing  the  wagon 
steadily  in  a  direction  to  windward  of  the  house.  At 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  33 

this  moment  of  dread  suspense  and  imminent  peril, 
Langley  suddenly  exclaimed — "  There  is  but  one 
way" — and  rushing  towards  the  kitchen,  returned 
with  a  blazing  firebrand. 

"  What  now  ?"  asked  his  father. 

"  Nothing — nothing,     sir," — replied     he,     hastily. 
"  Don't  stop  me — a  moment  and  it  will  be  too  late." 

He  then  made  for  a  door  which  opened  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  approaching  danger,  and  in  so  doing,  passed 
close  to  Miriam,  who  had  acted  the  part  of  a  little 
heroine,  during  the  siege,  and  who  suddenly  grasped 
his  arm,  as  if  to  detain  him.  He  paused  at  the  inter- 
ruption, and  Miriam,  as  if  recollecting  herself,  snatched 
away  her  hand,  bent  down  her  eyes,  and  spoke  not  a 
word.  Before  any  one  was  aware  of  his  design,  he 
had  hastily  opened  the  door,  which  was  fortunately  in 
a  direction  that  hid  it  from  the  savages,  advancing, 
and  tugging  behind  the  load  of  straw,  and  darted  for- 
ward in  the  same  line  of  direction  until  without  being 
seen,  he  had  applied  the  brand  to  the  dry  straw,  which 
in  an  instant  was  in  a  blaze.  He  then  retreated  full 
speed,  but  was  detected  in  his  flight,  and  saluted  by  a 
shower  of  arrows,  one  of  which  lodged  in  his  shoulder, 
and  remained  quivering  there,  as  he  rushed  in,  and 
closed  the  door.  It  was  speedily  drawn  by  the  over- 
seer, who  was  one  of  the  garrison,  and  like  most  of  his 
class,  had  a  smattering  of  surgery ;  the  blood  was 
staunched,  and  Langley,  though  suffering  much  pain, 
persisted  in  remaining  on  duty,  so  long  as  he  could 
point  a  rifle,  or  draw  a  trigger. 
2* 


S4  THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS    DAUGHTER. 

«But  this  daring  diversion  produced  not  its  merited 
consequences.  The  fire  having  been  speedily  extin- 
guished before  it  gained  the  mastery,  the  wagon  was 
pushed  still  nigher  and  nigher ;  and  as  if  to  aid  the 
savages  in  their  design,  the  wind  suddenly  rose  to  a 
gale.  They  redoubled  their  exertions,  and  at  length 
having  succeeded  in  spite  of  the  exertions  of  those 
within,  in  placing  the  wagon  in  contact  with  the 
house,  they  set  it  on  fire,  and  stood  under  its  cover, 
shouting  in  triumph. 

"Our  time  is  come" — said  Harold,  in  a  calm,  steady 
voice — "  death  is  inevitable,  but  there  is  at  least  a 
choice  how  we  shall  die.  How  say  you,  friends,  shall 
we  perish  in  the  flames,  or  die  fighting  like  men  ?  It 
is  a  righteous  cause,  when  life  and  all  that  makes  life 
dear  is  at  stake.  This  life  is  as  often  a  choice  of  evils 
as  of  good.  Follow  me,  friends,  and  remember  the  race 
is  not  to  the  swift,  nor  the  battle  to  the  strong.  Come 
Susan— come  Miriam — if  it  please  Grod,  we  will  die 
together.  Keep  close  to  me,  both." 

Langley  now  stept  forward,  and  offered  his  protec- 
tion to  one  or  either  of  the  poor  desolate  women, 
whose  habits  of  submission  to  the  will  of  the  husband 
and  father  were  so  confirmed  by  long  years,  that  they 
spoke  not  a  word,  but  bowed  in  silence  to  Harold's 
behest.  They  had  clung  to  him  in  life,  and  were  will- 
ing to  follow  him  to  death. 

"  You  cannot  protect  them  both,"  said  Langley. 

"  Both !"  replied  Harold ;  "  G-od  only  can  protect 
them.  Alas !  a  little  while  ago,  I  said  I  would  not 


THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS    DAUGHTER.  35 

trust  them  even  to  His  keeping ;  I  am  punished  for  my 
blasphemy." 

"  But  I  entreat  you,  sir,  for  the  sake  of  others,  if 
not  for  your  own." 

"  Enough — no  more,  Master  Langley ;  in  this  hour 
of  mutual  extremity,  when  all  of  us  are  destined  to 
one  common  fate,  all  differences  should  be  forgotten, 
at  least  for  the  present.  I  would  accept  thy  offer ; 
but,  look  yonder  !  There,"  said  he,  pointing  to  Mis- 
tress Tyringham,  "  there  bides  your  watch.  A  higher 
and  holier  duty  calls  you.  To  her  who  owes  her  being 
to  me,  I  will  give  my  care ;  to  her  who  gave  you 
being,  give  thine,  and  die  for  or  with  her  as  Heaven 
shall  will.  Now  let  us  go  forth  and  perish  by  the 
tomahawk  rather  than  by  fire. 

Langley  bowed  low,  and  placed  himself  beside  his 
mother.  He  exchanged  a  look  with  Miriam  more 
expressive  than  words,  and  all  stood  ready  prepared  to 
sally  forth  in  the  last  extremity.  In  the  mean  time 
the  flames  rose,  and  spread  throughout  the  mass  of 
straw ;  the  dry  pine  boards  began  to  smoke,  and  soon 
the  lively  flames  ran  swiftly  along  their  edges.  The 
moment  for  making  a  last  desperate  effort  had  arrived ; 
the  father  and  children,  the  husband  and  wife,  had 
exchanged  a  last  embrace,  and  Langley  had  whispered 
something  in  Miriam's  ear  that  changed  her  deadly 
paleness  into  a  ruddy  glow  ;  when,  suddenly,  a  black 
cloud,  which  had  been  approaching  unheeded,  sent 
forth  a  vivid  flash,  followed  by  a  burst  of  thunder  that 
seemed  to  announce  the  interposition  of  a  higher  power. 


36  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

The  cloud  opened  its  bosom,  and  a  deluge  of  rain 
descended  with  such  volume,  as  well  as  fury,  as  in 
a  few  minutes  entirely  extinguished  the  spreading 
flames,  and  drove  the  savages  into  the  stables  for 
shelter,  where  they  stood  awed  into  silence,  until  the 
chief  addressed  them : — 

"  The  Great  Spirit  of  the  white  man  protects  the 
longknife,  and  says  he  must  live.  Let  us  return 
home,  lest  he  should  be  angry  with  us  for  opposing  his 
will.  Let  him  live  to  tell  the  story  of  this  day,  and 
teach  his  children  how  the  redman  avenges  his 
wrongs." 

Under  the  influence  of  this  feeling  they  all  assented ; 
and  taking  up  their  killed  and  wounded,  retired  into 
the  recesses  of  the  forest,  chaunting  the  song  of  death. 

The  little  garrison,  after  awaiting  in  silent  awe 
the  passing  away  of  the  providential  shower,  and  find- 
ing the  savages  did  not  make  their  appearance,  pro- 
ceeded to  consult  on  what  was  best  to  be  done.  It 
was  unanimously  resolved  to  remain  on  the  watch  till 
next  morning,  and  if  no  attack  was  made  in  the 
interim,  it  might  be  safely  inferred  that  all  danger 
was  over,  at  least  for  that  time.  The  night  passed 
away  in  anxious  suspense,  but  without  any  alarms ; 
and  on  the  morrow,  a  party  went  warily  forth  with- 
out meeting  the  enemy.  On  a  careful  examination 
their  tracks  were  traced  in  the  wet  ground  till  they 
entered  the  forest,  and  it  was  the  unanimous  opinion 
they  had  departed  not  to  return. 

Feeling  now  a  sense   of  security,  their  thoughts 


THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS   DAUGHTER.  37 

reverted  to  the  melancholy  scene  they  had  witnessed 
on  the  opposite  shore,  where  every  appearance  of  life 
and  animation  had  ceased.  The  savages  had  departed 
after  finishing  their  bloody  business,  leaving  nothing 
but  ruin  and  death  behind  them.  One  dreary,  death- 
like solitude  extended  for  many  miles  along  either  side 
of  the  river;  and,  save  those  of  Master  Tyringham, 
not  a  single  building  was  standing.  The  whole  country 
wes  scathed  with  fire.  The  nest  of  the  toiling  emmet 
was  broken  up ;  the  labor  of  lives  reduced  to  ashes  ; 
the  meed  of  dangers,  hardships,  exile  and  privation, 
for  long,  suffering  years,  swept  away  in  a  single  hour, 
and  the  owner  of  the  fields  lay  a  mangled  victim 
among  their  ruins.  A  party  from  Master  Tyringham's 
passed  over  with  a  view  to  rescue  any  survivor  that 
might  chance  to  have  escaped,  and  to  bury  the  dead. 
The  scene  was  equally  calculated  to  awaken  both  pity 
and  vengeance.  Here  lay  a  grey-headed  Cavalier,  who 
had  fought  bravely,  for  his  hands  were  cut  to  the  bone 
in  grasping  the  Indian  knife ;  close  by  his  side  was 
his  wife,  who  had  accompanied  him  to  the  New  "World 
to  share  his  fate ;  and  between  them  a  young  woman, 
doubtless  their  daughter,  with  her  head  cleft  asunder 
by  a  tomahawk,  and  reft  of  its  crown  of  glossy  hair. 
Here  and  there  lay  little  infants  with  their  brains 
dashed  out ;  and  more  than  once  they  encountered 
one  of  these  innocent  victims  clasped  in  the  arms  ol 
its  mother,  or  its  faithful  black  nurse,  who  had  perish- 
ed with  it.  Last  of  all,  lay  a  banished,  wandering 
(Quaker,  whose  non-resistance  little  availed  him  here. 


38  THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS    DAUGHTER. 

Some  were  basking  in  the  burning  sun,  and  some 
lay  half  consumed  in  the  still  smoking  ruins,  and  all 
had  undergone  the  bloody  Indian  rite  of  scalping. 
Men,  women,  infants,  not  one  was  spared.  Black  and 
white  lay  side  by  side ;  and  the  slave  had  ascended 
with  his  master  to  the  judgment  seat  of  Him  who 
knows  no  distinction.  So  rolls  the  wheel  of  time,  and 
crushes  as  it  rolls.  Shall  we  while  lolling  in  the  lap 
of  security,  enjoying  the  rich  legacy  of  peace  and  pros- 
perity bequeathed  us  by  our  forefathers,  who  paid  so 
dearly  for  it,  rise  up  in  judgment  against  them,  if  in 
avenging  this  bloody  tragedy,  they  took  care  to  prevent 
its  repetition  ?  Forbid  it,  justice !  or  if  not  justice, 
forbid  it,  gratitude!  The  pioneers  of  the  New  World 
came  here  under  the  sanction  of  rights  universally 
recognized  by  all  Christian  nations ;  they  occupied 
their  early  possessions  by  purchase,  or  by  donation  of 
the  savages;  and  for  a  long  time  afterwards  their 
weakness  placed  them  under  the  immediate  obligation 
of  self-defence,  the  first  law  of  nature. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Resuscitation  of  Gregory  Moth— How  Accident  sometimes  Discon- 
certs the  Projects  of  Wise  Men— Decisive  Consequences  of  Turning 
to  the  Right  instead  of  the  Left — Sensible  Cogitations  of  a  Young 
Man  about  Falling  in  Love — Another  Accident  Leading  to  a  Long 
Talk,  which,  as  Is  commonly  the  Case,  Ends  in  Nothing  particular. 

WHILE  the  events  recorded  in  the  preceding  chap- 
ter were  in  progress,  Gregory  Moth  had  remained 
ensconced  in  the  dire  donjon-keep  to  which  he  was 
consigned  by  his  master.  Nor  was  he,  in  truth,  at 
first  altogether  discontented  with  his  situation,  as  it 
placed  him  entirely  beyond  the  reach  of  the  Indian 
arrows.  But  there  being  no  window  on  that  side  of 
the  cellar  where  the  savages  were  making  their 
approaches,  his  solicitude  to  know  what  was  going 
forward  soon  became  exceedingly  troublesome,  and  in 
process  of  time  the  dead  silence  that  prevailed  gave 
rise  to  a  thousand  thronging  apprehensions.  He  was 
suffering  the  martyrdom  of  fear,  when  all  of  a  sudden 
his  nostrils  were  grievously  assailed  by  a  strong  efflu- 
via of  smothered  smoke,  which  threw  him  into  an 
agony,  or  rather  an  ague.  He  concluded  at  once  that 
the  house  was  on  fire,  and  gave  himself  up  for  a  lost 
man.  The  moment  all  hope  was  over,  he  quietly 


40  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

resigned   himself  to  his  fate;    for  the  desperation  of 
cowardice  is  often  a  substitute  for  manly  resignation. 

He  was  roused  from  this  state  of  abject  despair,  by 
the  flashes  of  lightning  that  penetrated  his  dungeon, 
and  the  loud  peals  of  thunder  that  rolled  over  his  head, 
followed  by  the  pelting  shower,  which  occurred  so 
opportunely.  After  this,  a  dead  silence  again  ensued, 
and  he  was  left  to  his  own  conjectures,  which  finally 
ended  in  a  profound  sleep,  produced  by  the  struggles 
of  his  mind  and  exhaustion  of  body.  Here  he  lay 
undisturbed,  being  forgotten  by  all  amid  the  apprehen- 
sions each  one  entertained  for  his  own  safety,  and  in 
the  contemplation  of  the  desolation  around. 

It  so  happened,  however,  that  early  in  the  morning 
of  the  day  succeeding  the  raising  of  the  seige,  it 
became  necessary  to  procure  some  articles  of  comfort 
or  convenience  from  the  cellar,  and  one  of  the  colored 
serfs,  who  it  should  have  been  before  noted,  had  been 
safely  gathered  in  their  master's  fold,  on  the  first  alarm, 
was  dispatched  for  that  purpose.  Cuffee,  or,  as  he  was 
usually  called  by  Gregory,  old  King  Cole,  was  a  native 
of  Africa,  with  a  face  that  glistened  like  a  well-polished 
boot,  luxuriating  in  the  splendors  of  patent  blacking. 
Descending  into  the  cellar,  which  was  rather  darkish, 
King  Cole  stumbled  over  the  body  of  Master  Gregory, 
who  was  solacing  his  hunger,  which  now  began  to  be 
rather  imperative,  with  another  nap.  Being  taken  by 
surprise,  the  gentleman  of  color  pitched  head  foremost 
against  the  stone  wall  of  the  cellar,  but  being  provi- 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  41 

dentially  provided  with,  a  competency  of  woolly  hair, 
escaped  without  any  material  damage. 

"  Gosh  !"  exclaimed  King  Cole,  rubbing  his  pate— 
"  what  dat  dare  yeer  ?" 

"  I  am  a  sort  of  living  creature,"  quoth  Gregory, 
"  very  like  a  man,  I  believe,  though  I  can't  be  certain, 
in  this  dubious  light." 

"  Hey  !  Masser  Gregory — you  hide  away  from 
Indian  here — hey  ?" 

" I  hide  from  the  Indians!  thou  discolored  specimen 
of  the  genus  man — I  scorn  your  words.  My  master 
sent  me  here  to  forfeit  daylight,  and  starve  in  a  dun- 
geon, because  I  did  utterly  discomfit  and  put  to  flight 
the  copper-colored  catiffs,  with  my  single  arm,  and  he 
wanted  to  get  all  the  credit  of  the  victory  to  himself. 
But  Cuffee — good  Cuffee — if  thou  hast  the  .bowels  of 
a  woodcock,  I  do  beseech  thee  in  thy  merciful  cruelty, 
and  pitiful  hardheartedness,  to  petition  my  master  to 
let  me  out.  I  am,  as  it  were,  on  the  extreme  edge  of 
starvation,  and  could  make  a  glorious  meal  on  pickled 
grasshoppers.  Go  now — do,  mine  honest  Cuffee,  and 
solicit  earnestly  for  my  release.  I  will  reward  thee 
with  the  stump  of  my  old  pipe."  King  Cole  graciously 
condescended  to  this  pleading,  and  communicated  it 
to  his  master. 

"  Bless  my  soul !"  exclaimed  the  Cavalier — "  I  had 
quite  forgot  poor  Gregory,  though  some  how  or  other, 
I  felt  as  if  I  missed  something.  Poor  fellow — he  must 
be  as  hungry  as  a  wolf  by  this  time.  Send  him 
hither — I  must  beg  his  pardon." 


42  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

King  Cole  obeyed  with  all  the  dignified  solemnity 
of  a  favorite  household  servant ;  but  Master  Gregory 
instead  of  waiting  to  receive  apologies,  had  made 
tracks  towards  the  kitchen,  where  finding  breakfast 
ready,  he  sat  down  without  saying  grace,  to  the  great 
discontent  of  Goody  Mildred,  and  solaced  himself  with 
a  degree  of  satisfaction  quite  exemplary.  And  now, 
having  released  friend  Gregory,  and  placed  him  status 
ante  helium,  we  feel  at  perfect  liberty  to  proceed  in 
our  narrative  with  a  clear  conscience.  Some  doers  of 
romances  seem  so  entirely  destitute  of  humanity,  that 
they  will  leave  a  man  just  on  the  point  of  drowning, 
or  with  a  house  burning  over  his  head,  or  a  sword 
through  his  body,  while  they  lead  the  gentle  reader  a 
dance  no  one  knows  where,  leaving  the  poor  victim  all 
the  while  in  this  imminent  jeopardy.  We  remember 
a  grievous  case  of  this  kind,  in  which  a  very  interest- 
ing young  lady  fell  overboard  into  the  lake  of  Geneva, 
in  the  first  chapter  of  a  romance,  and  was  not  rescued 
till  the  middle  of  the  second  volume,  the  author  being 
occupied  all  that  time  in  discussing  a  question  of  poli- 
tics. But,  thank  our  stars,  we  were  not  born  under 
Saturn,  to  feel  pleasure  in  devouring  our  own  children, 
for  such  we  consider  the  personages  of  our  story. 

The  destruction  of  the  abode  of  Harold  Habingdon 
made  it  absolutely  necessary  for  himself  ^and  family  to 
continue  under  the  roof  of  Master  Tyringham,  until  some 
other  refuge  could  be  provided.  Every  other  building 
for  a  wide  circuit  around  had  been  consumed  ;  and 
though  the  little  capital  of  the  colony  had  escaped,  in 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  43 

consequence  of  being  protected  by  wooden  defences, 
guarded  by  a  company  of  soldiers,  it  was  at  a  distance 
of  many  miles.  Hospitality  is  the  virtue  of  the  new 
world,  and  the  old  Cavalier,  to  do  him  justice,  not 
only  frankly  offered  his  house,  but  insisted  on  the 
family  remaining  his  guests,  until  provided  with 
another  residence.  Harold  did  not  relish  the  proposal ; 
it  went  against  the  grain.  But  there  seemed  no  other 
alternative,  and  after  a  degree  of  hesitation  that  made 
the  old  Cavalier  feel  quite  belligerent,  rather  stiffly, 
and  ungraciously,  signified  his  acceptance.  Thus 
Langley  and  Miriam  became  inmates  of  the  same 
home  in  spite  of  the  stern  decision  of  their  fathers  ;  and 
thus  did  what  could  not  be  foreseen,  baffle  all  the  fore- 
sight of  these  calculating  worms.  "Were  it  not  for  fear 
of  being  stigmatized  as  a  turbaned  Turk,  one  might 
almost  be  tempted  to  believe  that  what  is  called  the 
chapter  of  accidents  is  the  book  of  fate. 

The  wound  of  Langley  Tyringham,  though  not 
dangerous  was  slow  and  lingering  in  its  cure.  But 
at  the  expiration  of  a  week  he  was  able  to  leave  his 
room,  and  sit  out  on  the  piazza,  where  the  refreshing 
breezes  from  the  river  seemed  to  infuse  new  life  and 
vigor  into  his  frame.  Here  he  was  sometimes  joined 
by  different  members  of  the  family,  in  social  chat ;  we 
cannot  say  cheerful  chat  ;  for  the  deep  impression  of 
the  recent  massacre,  joined  to  the  wide-spread  desola- 
tion that  everywhere  presented  itself,  depressed  the 
jocund,  airy  spirit  of  youth,  and  turned  the  gravity  of 
age  to  sober  melancholy.  "When  Harold  announced  to 


44  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

his  wife  and  daughter  the  arrangement  he  had  made, 
he  contented  himself  with  gravely,  almost  sternly, 
reminding  the  latter  of  his  former  conversation  on  the 
subject  of  Langley,  and  repeating  his  prohibition  of  all 
intercourse,  as  far  as  it  could  be  avoided,  without 
direct  offence  to  their  host  and  his  family.  In  spite  of 
filial  duty,  Miriam  could  not  help  thinking  these 
restrictions  unreasonable,  as  regarded  herself,  and 
ungrateful  towards  those  who  had  opened  their  house 
and  their  hearts  to  receive  them.  Still,  she  offered  no 
objection,  but  as  usual  acquiesced  in  his  wishes  with 
silent  resignation.  She  was  obedient,  as  well  from  a 
habit  of  duty,  as  from  the  dictates  of  conscience.  The 
deportment  of  Harold  towards  her,  though  in  the  main 
kind  and  affectionate,  was  rigid  and  inflexible  in  all 
matters  involving  what  he  termed  principle.  He 
checked  the  vivacity  of  her  youth,  and  was  intolerant 
of  all  those  little  amusements,  or  recreations  that  had 
for  their  object  merely  whiling  away  the  hour, 
and  dissipating  that  weary  listlessness,  always  the  lot 
of  childhood,  when  in  the  absence  of  all  capacity  to  be 
useful  it  resorts  to  trifles  for  amusements.  Thus, 
instead  of  growing  up  among  the  flowers,  her  early 
days  were  passed  in  the  shade  of  her  father's  pious 
gloom.  In  her  infancy,  she  was  never  a  child,  in  her 
youth,  she  was  never  young.  Perhaps  it  was  all  for 
the  best,  and  that  this  stern  discipline  prepared  her  to 
endure  with  patience  the  severe  trials  she  was  destined 
to  encounter. 

Though  she  avoided  Langley,  as  much  as  possible, 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  45 

without  absolute  rudeness,  strange  as  it  may  appear  to 
some,  the  less  she  enjoyed  his  society,  the  more  she 
thought  of  him.  She  dwelt  on  his  daring  courage  in 
venturing  forth  to  almost  certain  death,  to  save  the 
lives  of  his  parents,  her  parents  and  herself.  Had  he 
risked  his  life  for  her  alone,  she  could  not  have  been 
more  grateful.  Nay,  her  feelings  were  only  the  more 
fervent,  when  she  remembered  that  those  she  most 
cherished  on  earth  were  involved  in  the  fate  from 
which  he  had  ventured  his  life  to  rescue  her.  Lang- 
ley  remained  for  weeks  pale  and  languid,  and  pity 
allied  itself  with  gratitude — a  most  formidable  con- 
federacy in  the  heart  of  woman. 

The  robustuous  Cavalier,  who  pitched  head  foremost 
into  everything,  whether  a  stone  wall,  or  a  feather 
bed,  had  in  like  manner,  in  his  summary  mode  of  inti- 
mating his  wishes,  signified  to  Langley,  that  though  as 
a  Virginia  gentleman,  he  had  invited  the  family  of  the 
Roundhead  to  his  house,  after  losing  their  own,  he 
must  distinctly  understand  that  the  edict  of  non-inter- 
course was  still  in  full  force.  The  wise  old  gentleman 
concluded  by  positively  prohibiting  his  son  from  fall- 
ing in  love  with  the  little  Crop-ear,  since  he  would 
never  consent  to  mix  his  blood  or  his  name  with  that 
of  a  rebel  to  his  king,  and  an  apostate  from  his  mother 
church.  The  reader  is  not  to  presume  from  this  refer- 
ence to  mother  church,  that  Master  Tyringham  was  a 
very  religious  man.  The  honest  truth  of  the  matter 
is,  that  though  he  had  fought  for  the  thirty-nine  arti- 
cles, and  was  ready  to  fight  again,  it  would  havo 


46  THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS    DAUGHTER. 

puzzled  him  mightily  to  tell  what  they  were.  But 
people  may  have  a  vast  deal  of  bigotry  without 
much  religion. 

However  this  may  be,  Langley  assured  his  father, 
and  that  with  sincerity,  that  he  had  not  the  least 
intention  of  making  love  to  Miriam  ;  whereupon  the 
worthy  Cavalier  departed,  highly  satisfied  with  the 

(wisdom  of  his  precaution.  Left  alone,  the  young  gen- 
tleman began  to  chafe  a  little  on  the  bit.  He  was 
now  of  age — witness  the  sturgeon's  head,  and  the  pro- 
found nap  in  his  chair.  "Without  overrating  himself, 
he  thought  he  was  man  enough  to  resist  being  treated 
as  a  boy  or  tied  to  his  father's  watchchain.  in  short, 
he  waxed  rebellious,  and  meditated  an  insurrection.  It 
was  well,  he  thought,  that  he  was  not  in  love  with 
Miriam,  else  he  might  be  tempted  to  woo  her,  if  only 
to  assert  his  independence.  Then  by  a  very  natural 
transition,  he  recalled  to  mind  the  sweet  and  pious 
composure,  with  which  she  had  met  the  almost  cer- 
tain approach  of  a  horrible  death.  He  dwelt  on  her 
pale,  placid  brow,  her  deep,  feeling  eye,  as  it  often 
watched  him  in  his  efforts  for  her  defence  ;  nor  did 
he  forget  the  involuntary  eagerness  with  which  she 
grasped  his  arm,  and  suddenly  relinquished  it,  as  here- 
tofore related.  There  were  certain  looks  she  had 
directed  towards  him,  while  the  arrow  was  extracting 
from  his  shoulder,  which  penetrated  deeper  than  his 
wound,  and  made  a  more  lasting  impression.  Finally, 
having  lived  much  alone  in  his  boyhood,  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  soliloquize  in  thought,  and  the  following  may 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  47 

serve  as  a  specimen  of  what  occurred  to  his  mind 
whenever  he  was  at  leisure  and  alone. 

"  How  strange  it  seems,  that  those  religious  and 
political  antipathies,  which  set  us  together  by  the  ears 
in  the  old  world,  should  extend  to  the  new.  What  if 
her  father  raised  his  arm  against  his  lawful  sovereign? 
For  all  their  claim  to  divine  right,  kings  are  but  men, 
for  they  die  like  other  men,  and  if  people  are  punished 
with  death  for  rebelling  against  their  sovereign,  I  don't 
see  why  a  sovereign  may  not  be  punished  for  rebelling 
against  his  people.  It  strikes  me,  that  kings  may 
conspire  against  the  just  rights  of  their  subjects,  as 
well  as  subjects  against  the  lawful  prerogative  of  the 
sovereign.  If  you  punish  one,  why  not  the  other  ?  As 
to  high  church  and  low  church,  I  don't  see  that  there 
is  any  great  difference,  where  there  are  no  loaves  and 
fishes  to  scramble  about.  Surely  it  is  not  only  absurd, 
but  cruel  to  persecute  those  who  have  themselves  fled 
from  persecution.  How  can  people  tell  whether  they 
are  treading  in  the  paths  of  truth,  or  wandering  in  the 
slough  of  error,  except  as  the  Bible  teaches  them,  not 
as  the  Bible  is  interpreted  by  those  who  with  all  their 
arrogance,  do  not  pretend  to  inspiration  ?  As  to  poor 
Miriam,  she  is  a  dear  little  soul,  as  innocent  as  a  lamb, 
and  as  pious  as  a  saint.  She  follows  the  faith  of  her 
father,  as  I  do  that  of  mine.  If  we  were  married — not 
that  I  have  the  least  inclination  that  way — but  if  by 
some  unaccountable  accident  we  were  to  marry,  we 
might  go  to  the  same  church,  for  we  are  both  Chris- 
tians, without  disputing  about  points  of  faith  when  we 


48  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

came  home.  It  is  true,  she  sings  rather  long  hymns, 
but  her  voice  is  so  sweet,  it  does  my  heart  good  to 
hear  her.  To  be  sure,  there  might  be  some  difficulty 
about  the  children.  Pshaw  !  what  the  deuce  am  I 
thinking  about" — and  Master  Langley  concluded  his 
soliloquy  in  a  huff,  by  setting  forth  to  cool  himself  in 
a  contemplative  walk. 

It  was  verging  towards  sunset,  and  this  was  the 
first  time  he  had  ventured  to  take  a  stroll,  since  he  re- 
ceived the  arrow  in  his  shoulder.  He  naturally  bent 
his  way  towards  the  water,  for  there  is  an  irresistible 
attraction  in  the  running  brooks,  the  silvery  lake,  and 
the  winding  river.  The  playful  child,  happy  in  its 
innocent  thoughtlessness,  loves  to  scamper  along  its 
white,  sandy  shore,  and  ever  and  anon,  bathe  its  feet 
in  the  cold  water ;  the  lusty  boy  delights  to  hurl  the 
skipping  stone  athwart  its  glassy  surface,  and  count 
with  exultation  the  number  of  its  leaps  ;  and  the  care- 
tired  spirit,  laden  with  tears  and  sorrows,  is  coaxed  for 
a  while  into  resignation  or  forgetfulness,  by  its  sooth- 
ing murmurs. 

Just  before  the  spirit  moved  the  young  philosopher 
to  indulge  in  an  evening  stroll,  that  mysterious  sym- 
pathy, which  the  reader  must  already  have  observed, 
had  unaccountably  produced  a  concert  of  action, 
between  Langley  and  the  little  Crop-ear  girl — had 
impelled  Miriam  to  put  on  her  primitive  bonnet,  with 
the  self-same  design.  She  had  been  accustomed  to 
walk  abroad  at  will  since  the  illness  of  Langley,  feel- 
ing no  apprehension  of  meeting  him,  and  Harold  had 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  49 

indulged  her  under  a  like  conviction.  Langley  had 
not  proceeded  far,  when  he  saw  something  he  took  for 
a  woman,  slowly  pacing  along,  as  if  in  deep  contem- 
plation. He  had  a  presentiment  who  it  was,  and 
respecting  the  command  of  his  father,  changed  his 
course,  several  points  of  the  compass,  by  which 
manoeuvre  he  placed  a  thick  copse  of  wood  betwixt 
him  and  the  enemy.  Miriam  had  also  seen  him  com- 
ing towards  her,  and  moved  by  a  similar  impulse  of 
duty,  diverged  a  little  at  first,  until  she  placed  herself 
under  shelter  of  the  self-same  copse,  after  which  she 
turned  short  about,  and  bent  her  steps  towards  the 
house,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  cover.  "Without  a 
map,  we  despair  of  giving  a  clear  idea  of  their  juxta- 
position ;  but  certain  it  is,  that  these  mutual  endeavors 
to  avoid  each  other  suddenly  brought  them  together, 
face  to  face,  in  turning  a  sharp  angle  of  the  wood. 
The  truth  is,  there  is  no  resisting  destiny,  and  it  is 
useless  to  argue  the  point. 

The  face  of  Miriam,  naturally  pale,  and  that  of 
Langley  rendered  so  by  his  late  indisposition,  both 
became  suddenly  flushed  at  this  awkward  and  unsought 
meeting.  To  pass  without  speaking,  or  to  speak  with- 
out stopping,  would  have  savored  of  discourtesy,  and 
accordingly  the  young  gentleman  addressed  the  young 
lady,  halting  at  the  same  time.  It  is  believed — nay, 
it  is  certain,  that  his  first  remark  had  reference  to  the 
weather,  that  never  failing  and — let  people  say  what 
they  will — that  interesting  subject,  which  in  some 
way  or  other,  enters  into  almost  all  the  concerns  of 

VOL.    II.  3 


50  THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS   DAUGHTER. 

life.  Certain  pert  writers,  aspiring  to  more  fashionable 
topics,  have  sneered  at  this  common-place  topic,  but 
after  all,  it  is  better  to  talk  of  the  weather,  than  to 
scandalize  our  neighbors,  or  play  dummy,  like  two 
John  Bulls,  when  they  meet  together  after  a  long 
absence. 

"  "What  a  delightful  evening,"  quoth  Langley. 

"  Delightful,"  echoed  Miriam ;  and  they  rung  the 
changes  on  this  head,  reiterating  the  same  ideas,  if 
not  the  same  words,  until  it  is  believed  they  scarcely 
knew  what  they  were  saying.  Whether  this  uncon- 
sciousness extended  to  what  they  were  doing,  is  doubt- 
ful, but  certain  it  is,  that  contrary  to  all  approved 
canons  of  courtesy,  instead  of  the  gentleman  turning 
about  with  the  lady,  the  lady  turned  back  with  him, 
without  being  aware  of  her  condescension  ;  and  in 
place  of  returning  to  the  house,  they  proceeded  the 
other  way,  still  harping  on  the  beauty  of  the  evening. 
All  on  a  sudden,  however,  Miriam  changed  the  subject, 
and  fixing  her  eyes  on  his  face,  said  in  a  voice  betoken- 
ing an  interest  in  the  subject — 

"  You  are  very  pale,  and  must  be  tired  with  your 
walk — let  us  return." 

"  Tired,  what  makes  you  think  so  ?  Is  it  because 
you  are  tired  of  me  ?"  said  Langley  jestingly. 

"  Why — why — because  you  look  so.  You  are  so 
pale  and  thin;  I  am  sure  you  must  be  weak  and 
weary." 

"  Indeed,  you  are  mistaken,  I  never  felt  better  in 
health,  or  happier  in  spirit,  than  at  this  moment." 


THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS   DAUGHTER.  51 

There  was  probably  something  in  the  tone,  manner, 
or  look,  which  accompanied  these  words,  that  caused  a 
slight  suffusion  on  the  cheek  of  Miriam. 

"  Do  you  think  there  is  no  danger  from  the  savages?" 
said  she  hastily. 

"  None.  They  will  not  return.  They  have  pretty 
well  done  their  bloody  business.  Besides,  they  will 
soon  have  enough  to  do  in  defending  themselves.  We 
are  preparing  an  expedition  to  avenge  their  cruelties, 
and  if  possible  forever  prevent  their  repetition." 

"  And  do  you  go  with  it  ?" 

"  Certainly.  Every  man  that  can  carry  a  weapon, 
or  put  one  foot  before  the  other  will  go,  and  do  his  best 
to  avenge  the  blood  of  his  kindred  and  friends." 

"  By  shedding  his  own.  But  you  are  not  yet  fit  to 
go  on  such  an  errand.  You  are  scarcely  recovered 
from  your  wound,  and  should  stay  at  home  to  protect 
us  poor  women." 

"  I  am  quite  able  to  pull  a  trigger,  and  can  best 
protect  you,  by  destroying  your  enemies." 

"  Yes  !" — answered  she,  with  a  deep  feeling — "yes, 
by  leaving  them  alone  to  their  fearful  apprehensions, 
awakened  by  every  falling  leaf,  or  whisper  of  the  air ; 
to  feed  on  their  miserable  anxieties  for  your  fate — to 
a  conflict  of  hopes  and  fears,  that  only  ends  in  the 
certainty  of  a  broken  heart.  Do  not  go — I  entreat 
thee  not  to  go.  Do  not  leave  us — I — I — speak  in 
behalf  of  thy  mother." 

"  Would  you  have  me  stay  at  home  to  be  despised 
as  a  coward?"  cried  Langley,  deeply  moved  by  her 


OZ  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

gentle  solicitude — "would  you  have  me  called  coward 
—tell  me,  Miriam  ?"  . 

"  No,"  replied  she,  firmly—"  My  father  is  a  Chris- 
tian  soldier,  and  has  often  told  me  that  courage  is  the 
great  safeguard  of  the  virtues  of  man,  since  without 
it  he  may  be  frightened  out  of  them  all,  and  commit 
the  deepest  crimes  through  the  instigation  of  fear.      I 
would  not  have  you  be  afraid  of  anything  on  earth, 
but  doing  wrong.     But  I  wish  you  could  remain  with 
us,    without   incurring  a  name  all  women  hate  and 
men  despise.     When  do  you  go  ?" 
"  The  day  after  to-morrow." 
"  Indeed — so  soon.     And  when  do  you  return  ?" 
"  When  it  pleases  Heaven.     Perhaps  never." 
"  Perhaps  so,"  said  Miriam  in  a  low  voice — "  let  us 
return  home.     We   have   committed   a  fault  to  our 
fathers.     Let  us  go  and  ask  forgiveness." 

Langley  made  no  attempt  to  detain  her,  and  they 
turned  towards  the  house,  apparently  little  disposed 
for  further  conversation. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Miriam  Sets  an  Example  to  all  Dutiful  Daughters— Poses  Her 
Mother  with  a  Knotty  Question — Some  Prosing  about  Humdrum 
Domestic  Matters — A  Love  Scene  between  Mildred  and  Gregory 
Moth — Sketch  of  a  Character,  and  sundry  Other  Matters. 

HAROLD  HABINGDON  was  now  busily  employed  in  erect- 
ing a  temporary  wooden  building  for  the  occupation 
of  his  family,  and  had  frequent  occasion  to  visit  the 
capital  to  obtain  supplies  of  materials.  It  was  during 
one  of  these  journeys  there  that  the  accidental  meeting 
recorded  in  the  preceding  chapter  occurred,  and  conse- 
quently, Miriam,  for  the  present,  escaped  a  lecture  for 
her  involuntary  transgression.  Like  a  dutiful  daugh- 
ter, she,  however,  immediately  disclosed  it  to  Susan ; 
for  her  pure  and  innocent  soul  never  once  harbored 
the  idea  of  concealing  any  act  or  thought  from  her 
mother.  She,  therefore,  frankly  told  the  whole  story, 
or  at  least  intended  to  do  so.  But,  somehow  or  other, 
it  was  no  more  like  what  actually  occurred,  than  the 
practice  of  certain  very  moral  and  religious  people  is 
to  their  professions.  She  said  not  a  word  about  looks, 
tones,  and  other  accompaniments,  which  are  as  essen- 
tial to  the  proper  understanding  of  a  subject  as  the 


54  THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS    DAUGHTER. 

expression  of  the  face  is  to  a  likeness  in  a  picture. 
Susan  was  a  kind,  rather  than  an  indulgent  mother  ; 
and  though  she  seldom  commanded  her  daughter, 
expected  obedience  to  her  wishes.  She  gently  chid 
Miriam  for  not  returning  home  immediately. 

"  "Would  you  have  done  so,  mother,  if  you  had  been 
me  ?"  said  Miriam,  with  perfect  simplicity. 

"  Why,  I  don't  know  whether  I  would,  child.  Come, 
let  us  go  spin." 

The  period  of  departure  for 'the  capital  to  join  the 
garrison  and  the  few  planters  that  survived  the  massa- 
cre in  the  expedition  projected  by  the  governor  against 
the  hostile  savages,  had  now  arrived.  Harold  had 
returned,  and  having  been  cured  of  his  scruples  by  the 
scene  he  had  just  witnessed,  voluntarily  consented  to 
be  one  of  the  party  ;  and  the  old  Cavalier  and  his  son 
panted  for  an  opportunity  of  retaliating  on  the  Indians 
the  murder  of  their  friends  and  neighbors.  It  was  felt 
by  all  that  a  decisive  struggle  was  at  hand,  which 
might  decide  for  ages,  perhaps  for  ever,  whether  this 
portion  of  the  earth  was  to  remain  a  wild,  unfruitful 
heritage  of  savage  man,  or  the  wilderness  come  in 
time  to  blossom  as  the  rose,  by  the  magic  of  labor. 

The  evening  preceding  the  morning  of  the  departure 
of  these  adventurous  spirits  on  this  fatiguing  and  dan- 
gerous service  was  passed  in  grave  and  solemn  con- 
verse, interrupted  by  long  pauses  of  painful  thought 
and  gloomy  anticipation.  Many  were  the  cautions  of 
the  good  dames  to  their  helpmates  to  be  careful  of  the 
nightly  dews,  and  morning  fogs ;  and  most  especially 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  55 

were  they  adjured  to  keep  clear  of  all  trees  behind 
which  the  prowling  savage  might  lurk,  and  launch 
his  feathery  arrows.  Good  Mistress  Tyringham  espe- 
cially reminded  her  husband  that  she  had  packed  up 
his  nightcap  and  slippers ;  whereupon  the  old  Cavalier 
kissed  her  and,  though  not  in  merry  mood,  laughed  in 
his  sleeve  while  telling  her  he  did  not  think  he  should 
have  much  occasion  for  such  rarities. 

The  hour  of  parting  came,  for  they  were  to  start 
bright  and  early  next  morning.  It  was  brief,  solemn, 
and  sad.  At  the  last  moment  Miriam  gave  her  hand 
to  Langley ;  he  felt  a  warm  tear  fall  on  his,  and  heard 
a  soft  tremulous  whisper — "  Take  care  of  yourself  for 
all  our  sakes."  "  The  tear,  thought  he,  may  have  been 
for  her  father,  but  the  word^  were  for  me;"  and  he 
often  dwelt  on  them  as  he  lay  awake  in  the  deep  forest 
at  night,  listening  to  the  wolf's  long  howl,  or  the  shrill 
hootings  of  the  solitary  owl.  The  Indian  warfare  is 
no  child's  play.  The  American  savage  is  equally  crafty 
and  daring ;  he  moves  like  a  shadow,  leaving  no  track 
behind  him ;  instinct  and  experience  have  endued  him 
with  a  sagacity  which  often  puts  to  shame  the  boasted 
reason  of  civilized  man,  and  forces  from  him  an 
acknowledgment  of  his  inferiority.  In  courage  he  is 
a  hero,  in  fortitude  a  martyr.  A  union  of  the  virtues 
of  a  North  American  Indian  with  those  of  a  civilized 
Christian  white  man  would  be  a  great  improvement 
in  the  human  species.  But  experience  has  shown  that 
the  mingling  of  the  blood  of  the  two  races  rather  com- 
bines their  vices  than  their  virtues,  and  produces  a 


56  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

being  inferior  to  both.  The  white  man  is  the  great 
aristocrat  of  the  creation,  and  cannot  amalgamate  with 
any  other  color  without  being  soiled  by  the  contact. 

The  march  of  our  wayfarers  was  through  a  long 
unbroken  succession  of  woods  and  wilds,  where  no  mile- 
stone marked  the  distance,  or  fingerpost  pointed  out 
the  way.  By  the  aid  of  Indian  guides  they  were  enabled 
to  follow  the  trail  of  the  Indian  party  that  had  desolated 
the  colony,  until,  on  the  thirteenth  day,  they  tracked 
them  to  the  village  of  the  great  chief  who  had  led  the 
massacre.  Crouching  low  in  the  thick  forest  that 
approached  to  within  a  few  hundred  yards  of  the  vil- 
lage, they  waited  in  breathless  silence  till  the  sun 
went  down,  and  the  shadows  of  evening  gathered 
around.  They  could  see  that  preparations  had  been 
made  for  a  grand  feast  in  celebration  of  their  victory 
over  the  white  man,  and  as  soon  as  it  was  dark,  hun- 
dreds of  wild  savages,  men,  women,  and  children, 
issued  forth  from  their  cabins  carrying  lighted  torches, 
with  which  they  set  fire  to  a  vast  pile  of  pine  knots, 
which  anon  lighted  into  a  blaze  that  shed  a  red  and 
angry  lustre  on  the  scene.  Painted  like  fiends,  and 
decorated  with  fantastic  yet  picturesque  grace,  tho 
warriors  danced  around  the  fire,  to  the  music  of  tri- 
umphant yells,  brandishing  the  tomahawk,  and  howl- 
ing forth  their  exploits  in  the  victory  they  were  now 
celebrating.  One  warrior  sung  in  a  sort  of  recitative 
how  he  had  slaughtered  the  long-knives,  and  cast  them 
still  quivering  with  life  into  the  burning  flames ;  an- 
other boasted  of  the  women  he  had  cut  down  and 


THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS    DAUGHTER.  57 

scalped,  as  they  shrieked  with  agony;  and  a  third 
acted  over  again  the  massacre  of  innocent  babes,  their 
brains  dashed  out,  and  their  bodies  trampled  in  the 
dust,  or  cast  among  the  smoking  ruins  of  the  home 
where  they  were  born.  The  blood  of  the  white  man 
boiled  in  his  veins  at  hearing  these  bloody  stories. 
Some  of  the  victims,  whose  fate  was  now  rehearsed 
with  such  triumphant  exultation,  had  been  their 
friends ;  some  their  near  relations ;  and  among  the 
lookers  on  were  those  who  mourned  the  loss  of  wives 
and  children.  But  for  the  near  prospect  of  a  surer 
vengeance,  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  restrain 
them  from  instant  action ;  for  the  scene  and  the  recol- 
lections it  brought  to  mind  almost  made  them  mad. 

The  leaders  urged,  over  and  over  again,  that  it 
would  be  best  to  wait  till  the  feast  was  over,  and  the 
tired  savages  sleeping  away  their  debauch ;  but  when 
at  length  they  saw  the  scalps  of  their  kindred,  friends, 
wives,  children,  brothers  and  fathers,  brought  forth, 
and  suspended  from  poles,  round  which  the  savages 
danced  in  triumph,  they  could  no  longer  be  restrained. 
Both  Langley  and  Harold,  in  whispered  tones  of  deep 
determination,  declared,  that  however  bitter  and  bloody 
the  aggression,  they  could  not  bring  themselves  to 
await  the  hour  proposed,  when  the  disarmed  Indians, 
become  insensible  from  drunkenness,  would  be  unwor- 
thy victims,  incapable  of  resistance  or  atonement.  It 
was  true,  they  would  at  all  events  be  taken  by  sur- 
prize, but  they  were  armed,  and  so  far  capable  of 
defending  themselves,  that  it  would  not  be  rank 
3* 


OO  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

cowardice  to  attack  them.  The  old  Cavalier  seconded 
these  remonstrances,  and  an  immediate  attack  was 
determined  on.  The  plan  of  operations  had  been  pre- 
viously settled,  and  the  long-knives,  who  were  not  suf- 
ficiently numerous  to  surround  the  village,  emerging 
from  the  forest  with  silent  celerity,  were  upon  the 
savage  revellers  ere  they  were  aware  of  their  coming. 
The  Indians,  though  taken  by  surprise,  did  not  fly, 
with  the  exception  of  the  women  and  children. 
Elated  by  their  late  success,  and  by  the  boastings  and 
revellings  of  the  night,  they  met  their  foes  without 
flinching.  Man  to  man,  teeth  to  teeth,  they  met,  and 
tugged  and  struggled  for  life.  No  quarter  was  asked 
or  given,  for  the  long-knife  well  knew  the  tortures 
inflicted  by  the  savages  on  their  prisoners,  and  the 
savages  felt  that  they  were  now  about  to  atone  for 
their  recent  massacre.  Death  or  victory  was  the  only 
alternative,  and  death  or  victory  the  only  thought. 
Each  one  fought  for  himself,  and  every  man  was  a 
unit.  None  heard,  none  heeded  the  word  of  command, 
if  any  such  was  given,  for  now  men  had  no  ears  to 
hear,  or  eyes  to  see,  aught  but  the  groans  of  the  dying, 
or  the  bodies  of  their  foes.  The  fires  went  out,  and 
still  they  fought  by  the  light  of  the  stars,  that  seemed 
to.  shine  brighter  than  ever  on  the  bloody  scene,  uncon- 
scious and  uncaring.  Many  gallant  deeds  were  done 
that  night,  and  many  a  gallant  spirit,  red  and  white, 
never  saw  the  morning.  But  we  will  not  enter  into 
particulars.  There  is  enough  of  bloodshed  in  the  pages 
of  authentic  history,  one  would  think,  to  satiate  the 


THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS    DAUGHTER.  59 

keenest  appetite,  and  we  shall  only  say,  that  when  the 
sun  rose  that  day,  and  smiled  on  the  open  space  in 
front  of  the  village,  he  saw  nothing  but  smoking  ashes, 
and  earth  smoking  with  blood.  The  women  and 
children  had  fled  into  the  woods,  at  the  first  surprise ; 
but  the  red  armed  warriors,  had  died  to  a  man  on  the 
ground  where  they  stood,  and  the  village  had  been  set 
on  fire.  So  ended  for  this  time  the  war  between  the 
white  man  and  the  red,  a  war  "  never  ending,  still 
beginning,  fighting  still,  and  still  destroying."  The 
surprise  had  given  the  long-knives  such  a  decided 
advantage,  that  their  loss  was  comparatively  small. 
Of  the  trio,  in  which  the  reader  is  doubtless  most 
interested,  Langley  escaped  with  a  contusion  received 
by  a  blow  from  an  Indian  club ;  Harold  with  a  few 
hard  knocks,  and  the  old  Cavalier  came  off  scot  free, 
bringing  home  his  night-cap  and  slippers  in  triumph. 

During  this  brief  campaign,  Miriam  and  her  mother 
said  their  prayers  and  plied  the  needle  or  the  spinning 
wheel,  while  Mistress  Tyringham  seemed  to  forget  her 
anxieties  for  those  abroad  in  kindly  cares  for  those  at 
home.  There  were  indeed  hours  and  hours,  especially 
in  the  dead  silence  of  night,  when  dismal  fears  would 
beset  them,  and  the  whoop  of  the  owl,  or  the  chaunt 
of  the  whippoorwill,  came  full  charged  with  all  those 
omens  ascribed  to  them  by  superstition,  from  long  past 
times.  But  the  cheerful  light  of  morning  seldom  failed 
to  assuage  these  gloomy  forebodings,  and  those  blessed 
every  day  duties  which  must  be  attended  to,  in  joy  or 
sorrow,  sunshine  or  rain,  forbade  that  constant,  wilful 


60 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 


indulgence  of  care  or  sorrow,  which  is  one  among  the 
many  penalties  we  pay  for  what  is  called  the  good  for- 
tune of  being  in  a  situation  that  places  us  above  the 
necessity  of  exertion.  Busy  men,  especially  politicians, 
and  philanthropists  by  profession,  with  whom  meddling 
is  a  disease,  are  a  mischievous  race,  and  a  great  por- 
tion of  their  time  is  spent  in  doing  mischief.  But  little 
busy  bee,  woman,  is  always  gathering  honey,  when 
employed  within  doors.  Every  stitch  of  the  needle, 
and  every  turn  of  the  spinning  wheel,  administers  to 
the  comfort  of  somebody  ;  and  every  step  she  takes 
is  on  some  errand  of  domestic  benevolence,  tending 
towards  a  happy  household,  provided  always  that  she 
avoids  scolding,  and  the  chimney  does  not  smoke. 

All  would  have  gone  on  smoothly — for  the  anxious 
cares  and  sad  solicitude  of  the  faithful  wives  and 
pious  daughters  were  too  deep  to  ruffle  the  surface — 
had  it  not  been  for  Master  Gregory  Moth,  who  being  a 
man  of  notorious  valor  was  left  at  home  for  the  protec- 
tion of  the  ladies.  There  had  grown  up  between  this 
worthy  and  dame  Mildred,  the  faithful  handmaid  of 
Susan,  a  desperate  sectarian  feud,  arising  from  a 
difference  in  politics  and  religion,  similar  to  that  of 
their  masters — and  according  to  the  old  saying,  "  like 
master  like  man,"  they  kept  up  a  perpetual  warfare. 
Gregory,  being  an  Oxford  man,  considered  a  bishop  as 
essential  to  the  Protestant  Church  as  a  pope  is  to  the 
Catholic,  and  would  as  soon  have  turned  Turk  as  give 
up  the  hierarchy.  Mildred,  on  the  other  hand,  never 
called  the  bishops  anything  but  "  wolves  in  sheep's 


THE    PURITAN   AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  61 

clothing,"  and  verily  believed  the  mitre  a  device  of 
Satan  himself.  As  to  the  principles  of  the  two  sects, 
or  the  points  of  doctrine  in  which  they  differed,  they 
knew  little  or  nothing  and  cared  less. 

Mildred  was  in  the  abstract  an  excellent  woman ; 
practically  she  had  some  faults,  and  many  weaknesses. 
The  great  enemy  of  woman,  who  figured  in  the  garden 
of  Eden,  had  persuaded  her,  that  though  not  young, 
she  was  still  rather  handsome,  and  she  had  lived  so 
long  in  the  hope  of  finding  a  helpmate,  that  hope  had 
almost  become  a  certainty.  The  vision  had  become 
so  familiar  that  it  seemed  actual  reality.  She  was, 
moreover,  violently  given  to  psalm  singing,  both  in 
season  and  out  of  season,  though  it  must  be  confessed 
her  voice  did  not  quite  equal  the  music  of  the  spheres, 
as  celebrated  by  the  rascally  Pagan  bards.  The  fact 
is,  it  was  decidedly  bad,  inasmuch  as  it  united  the  two 
great  requisites  of  shrillness  and  dissonance,  besides 
being  occasionally  as  keen  as  hard  cider.  It  was, 
moreover,  a  most  ungovernable  and  rebellious  voice, 
always  out  of  the  traces  ;  sometimes  too  high,  at 
others  too  low,  and  continually  breaking  short  off,  from 
a  treble  to  a  bass,  without  the  slightest  preliminary 
gradation,  like  unto  a  desperately-ridden  hack,  who 
suddenly  varies  his  pace  from  a  canter  to  a  trot,  from 
a  trot  to  a  villanous  wriggle,  and  finally  ends  in  a 
full  stop.  In  addition  to  all  this,  poor  Groody  Mildred 
sung  through  the  nose,  and  made  ugly  wry  faces  just 
like  a  prima  donna. 

Gregory  Moth,  who  boasted  of  being  not  only  an 


62  THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS    DAUGHTER. 

Oxford  scholar,  but  a  Cavalier,  had  a  special  antipathy 
to  long  psalms,  most  especially  the  one  hundred  and 
nineteenth,  a  great  favorite  of  Mildred.  If,  as  the, 
most  witty  of  all  wits,  the  reverend  author  of  Hudi- 
bras,  affirms,  in  the  mischievous  spirit  of  satire,  the 
Puritans  were  pious  out  of  pure  spite  to  the  Cavaliers, 
it  may  be  affirmed  with  equal  truth,  that  the  Cavaliers 
were  licentious  and  profane  in  pure  spite  to  the  Puri- 
tans. There  was  a  curious  contest — on  one  side 
which  should  be  the  best,  on  the  other  which  should 
be  the  worst.  However  this  may  be,  the  feud  which 
deluged  a  nation  with  blood,  and  cost  a  monarch  his 
head,  had  somehow  or  other  descended  into  Mistress 
Tyringham's  kitchen,  and  greatly  disturbed  its  accus- 
tomed serenity.  These  two  bulwarks  of  the  faith 
scarcely  ever  met  without  a  sparring,  and,  if  the  truth 
must  be  told,  Master  Gregory  often  provoked  a  contest, 
from  which  he  always  came  off  triumphant  by  pre- 
serving his  temper.  His  usual  way  of  rousing  the 
lion  was  by  singing  a  stave  of  some  profane  song,  and 
calling  her  Goody  Mildred,  a  name  she  abhorred. 

A  day  or  two  after  the  departure  of  the  expedition 
against  the  savages,  Mildred  was  sitting  in  deep  con- 
templation of  the  enormities  of  the  wolves  in  sheep's 
clothing,  and  at  the  same  time  humming  a  stave, 
which  from  long  habit  she  could  repeat  without  think- 
ing. At  this  moment  Gregory  approached  her  with 
fell  designs,  singing  a  verse  of  an  old  song,  to  which 
she  had  a  special  aversion,  and  which  ran  thus — 


THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS    DAUGHTER.  63 

"  Barnaby,  Barnaby,  them  'st  been  drinking, 
I  can  tell  by  thy  nose,  and  thine  eyes  are  winking ; 
Drunk  at  Richmond,  drunk  at  Dover, 
Drunk  at  Newcastle,  drunk  all  over, 
Hey  Barnaby  !  take 't  for  warning, 
Be  no  more  drunk  or  dry  of  a  morning." 

"  Groody  Mildred,  I  wish  you  would  take  a  lesson 
from  me  in  singing,  for  you  know  I  was  one  of  the 
chaunters  at  Saint  Frydeswide's  church,  at  Oxford.  I 
never  heard  an  owl  hoot  with  a  worse  grace.  Listen 
to  me,  I'll  teach  you  the  true  cadenza :"  and  he  roared 

out — 

"  My  name's  not  Tribulation, 

Nor  holy  Ananias ; 
But  I'm  a  pagan  saint  of  old, 
Call'd  Antoninus  Pius." 

"What  dog  is  that,  howling?"  exclaimed  Mildred. 
"  (ret  out,  you  cur ;"  and  she  stamped  her  foot  signifi- 
cantly. 

"  Goody  Mildred,  of  a  truth,  thou  hast  little  taste 
and  no  voice.  "Why,  I  have  silenced  a  whole  flock  of 
wolves  with  that  very  song.  If  you  don't  like  it,  I'll 
sing  you  another — Fa,  sol,  la, — hem — my  voice  is  a 
little  hoarse." 

11  Hoarse!"  said  the  other  ;  "it's  always  hoarse.  It 
sounds  for  all  the  world  like  the  songs  they  sing  in 
Tophet.  I  wish  you'd  go  and  frighten  the  wolves 
again." 

"Well,  but  Groody  Mildred — excellent,  exemplary 
Mildred — don't  be  so  Crop-earish ;  and  don't  turn  up 


64 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 


your  devout,  impatient  nose  at  me,  as  if  I  was  a 
bishop.  I've  a  great  secret  to  tell  you." 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?  do  tell  me."  Mildred  was  apt 
to  be  a  little  curious. 

"  Why,  marry,  I  declare  I  am  almost  afraid  to  tell 
you,  for  I  might  as  well  expect  a  drum  to  keep  a 
secret.  But,  really  now,  as  it  were,  peradventure,  and 
howbeit,  if  I  am  not  greatly  mistaken  in  the  symp- 
toms, I  am  either  grievously  in  love,  or  at  least  have 
an  awful  presentiment  that  I  shall  soon  meet  with  one 
of  those  fatal  accidents  called  matrimony,  and  that 
without  benefit  of  clergy." 

"  Oh,  Master  Gregory !  not  without  benefit  of 
clergy ;  that  would  be  monstrous  wicked.  But  you 
are  at  your  nonsense  again.  I  know  you  are  not 
serious." 

"  Serious  and  solemn  as  a  toad  sitting  under  his 
umbrella,  which  is  metaphorically  called  his  stool. 
Am  not  I  a  Cavalier,  and  you  know  they  never  tell 
fibs  like  unto  the  Crop-ears." 

"  I  don't  know  any  such  thing,  old  Moth,"  so  she 
always  called  him  when  out  of  humor. 

"Well,  don't  be  angry,  it  spoils  your  looks  entirely, 
and  that  is  a  great  pity,  seeing  you  can't  well  afford 
it.  So  you  won't  hear  my  secret  ?" 

"  Well,  out  with  it.    I'm  sure  I  don't  hinder  you." 

"  As  I  was  saying — no,  now  I  recollect,  I  have  not 
yet  said  it — I  am  grievously  tempted,  whether  in  the 
flesh  or  in  the  spirit,  I  know  not — whether  instigated 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS   DAUGHTER.  65 

by  the  wicked  Serpent  or  not,  to  commit  the  awful, 
unpardonable,  irrevocable  sin  of  matrimony." 

"  Now,  you  don't  say  so,  Master  Gregory.  You 
mean,  then,  to  reform  and  marry." 

"  No,  I  mean  to  marry  and  reform — that  is  the  true 
order  of  succession.  To  reform  before  marrying  is 
putting  the  cart  before  the  horse ;  for,  inasmuch  as 
that  all  men  undergo  a  radical  change  after  marriage, 
if  they  were  to  wax  good  beforehand,  ten  to  one  they 
would  revolt  afterwards  and  become  little  better  than 
the  wicked.  But,  to  return  to  my  text: — I  have 
deeply  pondered  the  subject  for  the  last  thirty  years, 
and  if  I  could  meet  with  a  real  bona-fide  woman — 
I  mean  a  white  woman,  who  has  brought  her  pigs  to 
the  same  market, — 'Slife,  Mistress  Mildred,  I  think 
I  would  purchase  one  of  the  plantations  over  yonder, 
that  have  no  owners — for  I  have  saved  a  little,  skim- 
med the  cream — eh!  Mistress  Mildred — you  under- 
stand?" and  Master  Gregory  slapped  his  pocket,  where 
he  always  carried  a  few  pennies  to  make  a  jingling. 

"  Are  you  really  serious?"  asked  Mildred,  edging  her 
chair  close  to  him. 

"  Quite  serious,  by  all — but  I  won't  swear.  You 
wouldn't  like  a  swearing  husband,  would  you  ?" 

"  Husband  ?  Good  la  !  Master  Gregory,  I  never 
think  of  such  a  thing.  But  I  would  exhort  him  at  all 
hours,  by  day  and  by  night,  sleeping  or  waking,  eat- 
ing or  drinking,  to  give  up  the  practice ;  and  if  he 
refused—" 

"  You'd  convert  him  with  a  broomstick — hey  ?  Mis- 


66  THE    PURITAN    AND    HTS    DAUGHTER. 

tress  Mildred.  But  to  proceed — I  have  had  serious, 
nay,  insurmountable  difficulties  in  finding  a  suitable 
person;  for,  you  know,  women  are  as  scarce  here  as 
swallows  in  winter.  I  have — forgive  my  presumption, 
most  exalted  of  women — I  have  all  but  determined  to 
cast  myself  and  fortune  at  your  feet,"  and  down  he 
plumped  on  his  knees. 

_"  La !  Master  Gregory,  now  you  are  making  game 
of  me,  I  can  see  it  in  your  eyes."  • 

"  Distrust  thy  spectacles,  divine  spinster.  Mine  eyes 
lie  most  impudently,  if  they  convey  any  such  diabolical 
insinuations.  In  good  faith,  were  it  not  for  one 
thing—" 

"  What  is  that  ?"  cried  Mildred,  impatiently. 

"  "Why,  verily  it  is  this — I  will  be  candid  with  you, 
for  I  scorn  to  deceive  your  unsuspecting  innocence. 
The  fact  is,  you  damsels  of  a  certain  age  are  too  apt 
to  boast  of  your  conquests  ;  you  go  about  like  a  hen, 
cackling  as  if  you  had  performed  a  great  feat,  and 
wanted  all  the  world  to  know  it.  Now,  I  am  a  modest 
man,  possessed  of  all  the  delicacy  of  my  sex,  and  don't 
like  to  be  published  in  this  manner.  If  it  were  not  for 
this  serious  objection,  I  do  verily  believe,  I  should  be 
tempted  to  offer  Mistress  Habingdon  a  few  pounds  of 
tobacco,  for  the  rich  reversion  of  your  remaining  years, 
seeing  that  in  all  probability  you  would  break  my 
heart  by  dying  a  martyr,  to  prevent  me  from  hanging 
myself  in  despair." 

Towards  the  close  of  this  aboriginal  declaration, 
Goody  Mildred  had  gradually  pushed  her  chair  farther 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  67 

and  .farther  from  Gregory,  who  sat  with  immovable 
gravity  waiting  an  answer,  which  came  like  a  hail- 
storm. 

"  Marry  come  up !"  cried  she,  in  a  rage.  "  You 
talk  of  marrying — you  talk  of  buying  a  plantation, 
that  can't  muster  as  much  as  the  hundredth  part  of  a 
fathom  of  wampum.  You  miserable  bag  of  bones — 
you  smoked  herring,  that  has  hung  up  so  long  in  the 
chimney  that  rats  won't  touch  it.  You  dried  toad- 
stool. You — you — you — /  boast  of  such  a  conquest — 
I  cackle  like  an  old  hen !  You  an  Oxford  scholar, 
that  never  studied  anything  but  how  to  make  a  ninny 
of  yourself.  You  a  Cavalier — you  pretend  to  have 
kept  company  with  gentlemen  in  London,  that  never 
entered  a  decent  house  but  to  steal  cheese-parings, 
and  never  drank  anything  but  two-penny  ale,  which 
you  never  paid  for,  at  the  sign  of  the  fool  laughing  at 
a  feather !  But  I  can't  live  in  the  same  house  any 
longer,  and  I'll  go  tell  my  mistress  so,  this  blessed 
minute." 

"  Go  say  thy  prayers,  good  Mildred,  and  aggravate 
thine  apathy,"  said  Gregory,  and  Mildred  departed  in 
a  rage. 

These  sparrings  happened  almost  daily,  and  inva- 
riably ended  in  an  appeal  to  her  mistress,  on  the  part 
of  Mildred.  This  placed  Susan  in  an  awkward  posi- 
tion, somewhat  similar  to  an  exiled  monarch,  who  has 
taken  refuge  with  one  of  his  more  fortunate  neighbors, 
and,  if  he  is  wise,  never  meddles  with  his  domestic 
concerns,  lest  he  should  wear  out  his  welcome,  and 


68  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

receive  a  hint  to  mind  his  own  business.  The  world 
without,  it  is  said,  cannot  bear  two  suns,  neither  can 
the  domestic  world  within  doors  bear  a  divided  empire. 
In  that  sphere  the  system  of  government  should  be 
absolute,  and  the  administration  an  unit.  No  divi- 
sion of  power  is  admissible  ;  and  the  lordly  garment 
which  has  been  from  time  immemorial  the  emblem  of 
man's  supremacy,  should  always  be  hung  up  at  the 
outside  of  the  door  to  indicate  a  temporary  abdication. 
The  discreet  Mistress  Habingdon  was  well  aware  of 
the  extreme  delicacy  of  any  interference  with  the  af- 
fairs of  the  domestic  empire,  and  especially  with  the 
conduct  of  those  household  menials  who  exercise  the 
important  functions  of  ladies  of  honor,  gentlemen  ush- 
ers, lords  of  the  bedchamber,  and  grooms  of  the  stole, 
in  the  courts  of  puissant  monarchs. 

Thus,  though  these  frequent  complaints  of  Mildred 
were  not  only  disagreeable  but  painful,  still  Susan 
wisely  declined  any  interference,  awaiting  with 
patience  the  completion  of  the  temporary  building 
preparing  for  their  reception,  until  a  better  was 
finished.  By  persevering  in  this  prudent  course  of 
non-intervention,  it  actually  happened  that  the  two 
ladies,  though  placed  in  this  dangerous  juxta-position, 
preserved  the  most  amicable  relations,  and  finally  parted 
the  best  friends  in  the  world. 

Other  than  these  summer  squalls,  there  was  nothing 
to  disturb  the  even  tenor  of  their  daily  routine,  except 
continued  fears  and  anxieties,  which  were  much 
oftener  felt  than  expressed.  Nearly  four  weeks  had 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  69 

elapsed,  without  any  tidings  of  their  absent  friends, 
save  certain  vague  rumors  coming  from  no  one  knew 
where,  which  only  increased  their  apprehensions. 
Buried  in  the  boundless,  pathless  wilderness,  these 
hardy  adventurers  were  lost  to  the  world,  and  had  no 
means  of  giving  or  receiving  information.  Both  parties 
remained  entirely  ignorant  of  the  fate  of  each  other. 
But  the  two  matrons  had  been  accustomed  to  these 
trials,  which,  without  hardening  their  hearts,  had  given 
them  firmness  to  endure  either  actual  or  anticipated 
evils.  Poor  little  Miriam  suffered  most,  for  she  had 
not  been  so  well  schooled  in  the  rough  discipline  of  the 
world,  and  besides  anxiety  for  her  father,  had  now 
begun  to  cherish  in  secret,  and  unknown  to  herself, 
another  feeling,  which  sometimes  overmasters  filial 
love. 

Notwithstanding  the  simplicity  and  self-denial  which 
formed  the  basis  of  her  character,  she  resembled  her 
father  in  the  depth  of  his  enthusiasm,  and  the  firmness 
of  his  resolution.  She  was  capable — nay,  she  was 
formed  for  cherishing  the  most  profound  and  lasting 
impressions  ;  and  in  the  misty  softness  that  seemed  to 
constitute  the  leading  feature  of  her  mind,  as  it  cer- 
tainly formed  its  most  touching  attraction,  there  was 
sleeping,  as  it  were,  a  steady,  calm  resolution,  which, 
when  once  formed,  and  sanctioned  by  a  conviction  of 
right,  was  capable  of  resisting  temptation,  danger, 
violence  and  death.  Her  virtues  had  grown  up  and 
been  nourished  in  the  solitude  of  youth,  and  like  the 
giants  of  the  primeval  forest,  acquired  a  strength  and 


70  THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS    DAUGHTER. 

maturity  never  to  be  equalled  by  any  after  growth. 
Had  she  been  wicked,  she  would  have  been  a  monster ; 
had  time  and  circumstance  concurred,  she  might 
have  become  a  saint  or  a  martyr,  like  those  illustrious 
virgins  whose  pure  blood  cemented  the  grand  edifice 
of  the  Christian  Church.  But  in  her  present  situation 
she  seemed  far  removed  from  such  a  destiny.  Save 
piety  and  filial  love,  no  other  strong  feeling  had  ever 
agitated  her  bosom,  until  she  had  frequent  opportuni- 
ties of  meeting  Langley  Tyringham,  who  stood  before 
her  all  alone,  a  tall,  stately  tree  in  some  sandy  desert, 
without  a  companion,  and  without  a  rival.  There  was 
no  one  near  to  compare  with  him,  and  the  great  soli- 
tude around  seemed,  in  her  gentle  fancy,  animated  by 
him  alone.  She  was  not  actually  in  love,  or  did  not 
know  if  she  was.  She  had  lately  thought  a  great  deal 
of  Langley,  especially  since  his  wound  and  his  ab- 
sence on  such  a  perilous  adventure,  for  he  accompanied 
her  father,  and  they  were  so  closely  associated  in  peril 
that  it  was  quite  impossible  to  dwell  on  one  without 
recalling  the  other.  But  he  had  never  spoke  a  word 
of  love  to  her,  though  sometimes  her  heart  would 
whisper  sweetly  in  her  ear,  that  once  or  twice  at  least 
the  tongueless  eloquence  of  his  eyes  had  flashed  a 
language  more  easily  learned  than  our  mother  tongue, 
and  far  more  expressive  than  that  of  the  flowers  by 
which  the  Persian  youth  conveys  his  secret  love. 

The  time  did  indeed  pass  wearily,  sometimes  sadly, 
with  the  lonely  girl,  and  every  day  she  found  it  more 
difficult  to  fix  her  mind  on  the  objects  before  her.  It 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  71 

wandered  away  into  the  region  of  ideal  fancies  and 
visionary  anticipations,  half  shaped,  and  peering  like 
objects  in  a  mist,  half  real,  half  a  dream.  Even  her 
devotions  were  often  intruded  on  by  worldly  thoughts, 
and  anticipations  that  flitted  past  and  led  her  away 
into  the  wilderness  ;  or,  what  was  far  more  winsome 
and  alluring,  into  a  region  of  dim  visionary  delights 
such  as  are  never  realized  in  this  world.  She  often 
wandered  along  the  river,  careless  of  its  smiling 
banks  or  tuneful  murmurs ;  and  still  oftener  sat  idle 
at  her  wheel,  until  roused  by  catching  the  eyes  of  her 
mother  contemplating  her  with  deep  solicitude. 

Ah!   Miriam,  thou  hast  a  secret  in  that  innocent 
bosom,  and  remember  what  the  poet  sings : 

"  If,  when  within  the  budding  rose 
A  gnawing  worm  in  secret  lies, 
Unless  the  opening  leaves  disclose 

The  thief,  the  flower  soon  fades  and  dies." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Return  from  the  Wars — the  Cavalier  and  Roundhead  like  Each  Other 
the  Less  the  Better  They  Become  Acquainted — Specific  for  Dis- 
persing a  Fog — A  Communication  Ending  with  Something  like  a 
Declaration. 

ONE  evening,  as  the  three  Penelopes  were  sitting  toge- 
ther, beguiling  the  time  in  sober  chat  and  sober 
occupation,  they  were  suddenly  roused  by  the  entrance 
of  those  who  were  the  subject  of  their  thoughts  and 
conversation.  It  is  unnecessary  to  describe  the  warm, 
affectionate  welcome  they  received,  or  repeat  the 
thousand  eager  questions  dictated  by  curiosity  or  a 
deeper  interest,  and  which,  contrary  to  the  practice  of 
many  lords  of  creation,  were  answered  with  exemplary 
courtesy.  All  manner  of  married  men  should  make  a 
point,  when  they  return  home  from  the  daily  round  of 
occupation  or  pleasure,  to  answer  the  inquiries  of  their 
helpmates  frankly  and  fully.  They  should  recollect, 
that  women  are  household  deities,  who  only  see  what 
is  passing  in  the  world  through  the  windows,  and  are, 
consequently,  more  curious  than  the  other  sex.  Nor 
should  they  forget,  that  they  have  a  right  to  know 
what  their  husbands  have  been  about  during  their 


THE    PURITAN   AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  73 

absence.  Who  knows  but  that  they  may  have  been 
carousing  it  lustily  at  a  tavern,  losing  money  at  a 
horse  race,  figuring  among  the  young  ladies,  or,  what 
is  still  more  provoking,  actually  making  love  to  a 
fashionable  dame  just  returned  from  the  land  of  Cicis- 
beos.  Yet  we  have  seen  brutes  of  husbands  who,  re- 
turning home  from  fishing  or  hunting  excursions,  would 
churlishly  make  a  mystery  of  how  many  fish  they  had 
caught,  or  woodcocks  they  had  shot  or  missed.  This 
we  affirm  to  be  treason  against  the  domestic  queen ; 
but,  like  bigamy,  it  never  fails  to  carry  its  own  punish- 
ment with  it,  as  all  men  of  experience  know  full  well. 
If  not  a  storm,  there  will  be  a  cloudy  day  after  it,  as  ' 
sure  as  the  world.  But  a  vehement  and  never-ceasing 
desire  to  render  our  work  highly  instructive  to  all 
classes  of  readers,  we  fear  may  draw  upon  us  the  indig- 
nation of  some  and  set  the  others  yawning.  It  can't 
be  helped.  We  must  have  our  say,  and  those  who 
don't  like  it  may  solace  themselves  with  cheap  litera- 
ture and  picture  books. 

We  have  said  nothing  of  the  meeting  of  Miriam  and 
Langley,  for  tke  special  reason  that  there  was  nothing 
to  say.  Their  behavior  was  exceedingly  provoking. 
Miriam  only  held  out  her  hand  timidly,  and  Langley, 
as  he  gently  pressed  her  finger  ends,  softly  whispered, 
"  You  see  I  have  taken  good  care  of  myself."  The 
little  goosecap  blushed,  for  she  remembered  these  were 
the  last  words  she  had  spoken  to  him  on  his  departure. 
But  there  is  no  time  for  love  scenes  just  now.  We 

VOL.  n.         4 


74  THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS    DAUGHTER. 

have  a  new  house  on  our  hands,  and  must  finish  it  as 
soon  as  possible. 

So  at  least  thought  Harold  Habingdon,  the  Round- 
head, who  became  every  day  more  impatient  to  remove 
from  the  domicile  of  the  Cavalier,  that  never  said  grace 
at  meals,  and  ate  a  hot  dinner  on  a  Sunday.  The  fact 
is,  the  more  these  two  gentlemen  saw,  the  less  they  liked 
each  other.  Though  both  good  men  in  their  way,  they 
were  continually  ruffling  each  other,  without  intending 
or  knowing  it.  Like  two  burrs,  they  never  came  in 
contact  without  pricking.  It  was  not  only  a  contrast 
of  opinion  on  those  ticklish  subjects,  politics  and 
religion,  but  their  medium  of  viewing  almost  every- 
thing, as  well  as  their  habits  and  manners,  not  only 
forbade  anything  like  cordiality,  but  actually  created 
a  mutual  dislike.  The  Roundhead  abhorred  drinking, 
even  to  tetotalism,  and  blasphemed  against  tobacco. 
If  asked  to  take  a  glass  of  wine,  he  declined,  with  an 
air  of  scornful  superiority,  which  almost  amounted  to 
insult.  It  happened  that  just  at  this  time  the  classi- 
cal beverage  called  mint-julep  was  invented  by  some 
happy  genius,  whose  name,  according  to  custom,  with 
most  of  the  great  benefactors  of  mankind,  has  been 
ungratefully  forgotten.  The  inventor  of  the  plough  is 
unknown,  while  he  of  the  daguerreotype,  who  has  been 
the  instrument  of  marring  more  human  faces  than  all 
the  sign  painters  that  ever  existed,  hath  been  embalmed 
in  divers  works  that  will  cause  his  name  to  last  at 
least  as  long  as  themselves.  "Well  might  the  sage 


THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS   DAUGHTER.  75 

Gregory  Moth  liken  fame  unto  water,  which  floats  the 
feather  and  lets  the  diamond  sink  to  the  bottom. 

The  old  Cavalier  was  in  truth  a  man  egregiously 
inclined  to  be  jovial,  though,  to  do  him  justice,  he 
never  got  "foxed,"  as  the  phrase  then  was,  except  on 
extraordinary  occasions,  such  as  birthdays,  holidays, 
election  days,  and  friendly  carousals  among  the  chosen 
few.  If  ever  man  had  a  fair  excuse  for  sailing  over 
the  Bay,  it  was  him ;  for  the  juice  of  the  grape  and 
the  juleps  did  so  harmonize  with  his  good  qualities, 
that  he  was,  if  possible,  thrice  as  kindhearted,  forgiv- 
ing, generous,  and  loving  in  his  cups,  as  when  sober 
as  a  deacon.  With  him  the  love  of  good  wine  was  a 
prelude  to  the  love  of  his  neighbor,  not  excepting  the 
Roundhead,  whose  name  he  sometimes  toasted,  when 
the  wine  or  the  venison  was  especially  good,  with  the 
remark,  that  "  though  a  Crop-ear,  he  was  as  honest  as 
the  day,  and  as  brave  as  Caesar,  that  is  to  say,  on  par- 
ticular occasions."  But  he  always  relapsed  when  he 
became  sober,  and  hated  him  mortally,  a  fact  we 
relate  unwillingly,  because  it  may  be  that  evil-disposed 
persons  may  draw  from  it  an  argument  in  favor  of 
drinking.  Touching  mint  juleps,  it  is  confidently 
asserted,  that  he  was  the  first  man  that  achieved  "  a 
hail  storm,"  by  the  aid  of  which  he  boasted  he  could 
at  any  time  disperse  a  great  fog,  and  thus  escape  a  fit 
of  the  ague.  It  was  with  him  an  incontrovertible 
axiom,  that  any  man  who  would  not  volunteer  a  fit  of 
the  gout  now  and  then,  for  the  sake  of  good  fellow- 
ship, was  a  skinflint,  a  flincher,  and  a  milksop  to  boot. 


76  THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS   DAUGHTER. 

Finally,  he  was  a  devoted  disciple  of  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh — glory  to  his  name! — and  smoked  like  an 
aboriginal ;  was  mighty  quick  on  the  trigger  ;  exceed- 
ingly loyal,  though  he  eschewed  passive  obedience ; 
rigidly  orthodox,  in  his  way  ;  and  swore  a  little  upon 
occasion. 

The  Roundhead,  it  is  well  known,  was  neither  loyal 
nor  orthodox,  and  agreed  with  King  James  in  nothing 
but  his  disloyalty  to  tobacco.  He  never  fell  into  a 
passion — that  is,  he  never  gave  vent  to  it  openly.  He 
rejected  wine  on  principle;  he  despised  tobacco  on 
principle  ;  and  in  short,  was  fettered  by  so  many  prin- 
ciples, that  on  the  whole,  though  a  man  of  real  worth 
he  was  a  disagreeable  companion,  since  he  was  not 
content  with  abstaining  himself  and  setting  a  good 
example,  but  lectured  others  for  not  following  it.  With 
these,  and  various  other  sharp  points  of  contact,  it  is 
no  wonder  that  these  two  neighbors,  when  the  time 
came  for  Harold  to  take  possession  of  his  new  house, 
parted  worse  friends  than  they  had  met ;  the  crown- 
ing offence  being  given  by  that  gentleman,  in  discover- 
ing what  the  Cavalier  considered  an  indecent  anxiety 
to  quit  his  house  as  soon  as  possible.  They  verified 
the  old  observation,  that  domestic  association  creates 
either  friends  or  enemies.  The  story  goes,  that  two 
men  once  retired  into  the  wilderness  to  make  maple 
sugar.  They  occupied  a  large  hollow  tree,  and  there 
was  not  another  human  being  within  a  distance  of 
twenty  miles.  They  agreed  very  well  at  first,  but 
soon  fell  to  quarreling,  am1  one  of  them  finally  mur- 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  77 

dered  the  other.  So,  when  there  was  but  one  family 
on  the  face  of  the  earth,  a  brother  slew  his  brother  in 
a  religious  quarrel.  Let  us  not  boast  too  much  of 
poor  human  nature. 

After  allowing  a  few  days  for  putting  things  in 
order  in  the  new  habitation,  Langley  Tyringham,  con- 
sidering, or  choosing  to  consider,  the  old  prohibition 
of  intercourse  abrogated,  or  superseded  by  the  two 
families  having  not  only  resided  together  in  peace,  but 
made  war  as  allies,  strolled  over  one  evening  to  make 
a  friendly  visit  of  inquiry,  and  offer  his  services. 
Entering  without  ceremony,  as  the  door  stood  wide 
open,  he  found  Miriam  sitting  alone,  apparently  per- 
fectly idle — for  it  was  just  at  that  happy  hour  of  twi- 
light, when  all  the  world  has  leave  to  play  awhile — 
indulging  a  sort  of  indolent  reverie,  in  which  fancy 
hovers  like  the  butterfly  from  flower  to  flower  without 
lighting  on  any.  She  started  at  his  entrance,  and 
though  he  was  received  not  unkindly,  her  deport- 
ment evinced  a  degree  of  awkward  restraint,  that 
seemed  to  say  he  was  not  altogether  welcome.  But 
soon  her  habitual  calm  self-possession  returned,  and 
after  a  few  minutes  conversation  on  past  events,  she 
addressed  him  with  a  melancholy  gentleness,  and  her 
eyes  cast  down — 

"  Langley  Tyringham,  I  have  all  my  life  been 
accustomed  to  obey  the  commands  of  my  father,  nor 
will  I  wilfully  disobey  them  but  when  my  own  reason 
and  conscience  forbid  my  obedience."  Here  she  paused, 
as  if  to  take  breath,  or  gather  firmness  to  proceed,  and 


78  THE    PURITAN   AND    HIS   DAUGHTER 

Langley  thought  to  himself,  "  "What  is  coming  now  ?" 
She  drew  a  long  breath,  that  seemed  almost  a  sigh, 
and  then  with  an  effort  at  cheerfulness  proceeded — 

"  I  see  thou  art  a  patient  listener,  and  will  be  as 
brief  as  possible  to  reward  thee.  Dost  thou  remember 
the  conversation  we  had  together,  walking  along  the 
river  side  ?" 

"  Certainly  I  do.  It  has  often  been  recalled  to  mind, 
and  I  almost  think  I  could  repeat  every  word." 

"  Thou  rememberest,  too,  the  commands  of  our — 
of  your  father  and  mine,  that  we — that  is,  that  thou 
shouldst  not  seek  me  again ;  that  we  were  to  hold  no 
converse,  and  be  as  strangers  to  each  other  ?" 

"I  do;  but  don't  you  know  these  commands  are, 
or  should  be,  no  longer  in  force.  Have  we  not  lived 
together,  shared  dangers  together,  suffered  and  re- 
joiced together,  since  that  time  ?  Surely  our  fathers 
can  be  no  longer  enemies  after  having  been  thus 
closely  associated  with  each  other,  when  all  their 
earthly  interests  were  bound  up  together.  I  feel  my- 
self free  to  come  and  go,  unless  you  forbid  me.  If 
my  visits  give  you  pain,  I  will  see  you  no  more." 

"  They  do  indeed,  and—" 

"I  am  gone,  then,  Miriam" — said  he,  in  a  tone  of 
sadness — "If  my  presence,  as  I  understand  you,  is 
disagreeable,  I  will  trouble  you  no  more ;  for,  however 
deeply  I  may  regret  its  loss,  I  would  not  seek  your 
society  at  such  a  price.  Farewell!" 

"  Thou — thou  dost  not  understand  me,  Langley. 
Thy  visits  are  not  disagreeable,  but  painful  to  me, 


THE    PURITAN   AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  79 

because  they  involve  a  breach  of  duty.     0 !  were  it 
not  for  that,  I  should" — and  here  she  checked  herself 
in  some  confusion. 

"  What  then  ?"  asked  he,  eagerly. 

"  No  matter  what ;  it  is  of  little  consequence.  Let 
me  say  what  I  have  to  say.  I  am  commissioned  by  my 
father,  at  my  earnest  request,  to  say  tothee,  that  having 
been  sheltered  under  the  roof  of  thy  father  from  danger 
and  death — having  been  his  guest  and  shared  his  gene- 
rous hospitality,  he  cannot  bring  himself  to  forbid  your 
seeing  me  in  his  own  house.  But  he  entreats  thee, 
for  reasons  of  the  deepest  moment,  reasons  which  can 
never  be  overcome,  and  that  become  every  day  stronger, 
that — that  thou  wouldst  spare  him  the  painful  neces- 
sity of  forbidding  thy  visits,  by  voluntarily  discon- 
tinuing them." 

"  Why,  what,  in  the  name  of  heaven,  have  I  done  to 
awaken  such  strong  antipathy  ?  But,  no  matter  ;  his 
wishes  and  yours  shall  be  obeyed.  In  my  father's 
house  all  are  welcome,  and  his  son  is  too  proud  to 
intrude  where  that  is  wanting.  Farewell,  Miss  Habing- 
don ;  though  you  drive  me  away,  I  will  still  watch 
over  you,  and  be  your  protector,  should  protection  be 
required." 

"  Alas  !  Langley,  say  not  my  wishes,"  replied  she, 
sadly  ;  "for  why,  now  that  we  shall  meet  no  more — 
why  should  I  not  tell  thee  frankly,  that  but  for  that 
unhappy  feeling  of  dislike,  I  might  almost  call  it  anti- 
pathy, between  our  fathers,  it  would  have  been  a  plea- 


80  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

sure  to  me  to  see  you  here,  or  elsewhere.  But  it  is 
forbidden,  and  obedience  is  my  duty. 

"  Miriam — Miriam — does  it  indeed  give  you  no  pain 
to  think  we  shall  meet  no  more  ?" 

"  It  does,  indeed.  "Why  should  I,  who  have  all  my 
life  considered  it  right  to  speak  the  truth,  speak  falsely 
now  ?  I  shall  be  more  lonely  than  ever.  My  feelings 
and  my  thoughts  will  have  no  one  to  commune  with, 
and  I  shall  prey  upon  myself.  I  shall  be  sorry  so  see 
thee  no  more.  But  it  must  be  so." 

There  was  a  touching,  plaintive  simplicity  and  feel- 
ing in  this  frank  confession  of  innocent  regard  that 
waked  up  all  the  latent  enthusiasm  of  Langley's  soul, 
and  caused  him  to  pour  it  forth  before  her,  without 
control — 

"  Thanks,  Miriam — dearest  Miriam — a  thousand 
thanks,  of  love  and  gratitude,  for  your  gentle  kind- 
ness. Nay,  hear  me  before  I  go — hear  me  declare  to 
you  that  I  love  you  better  than  any  living  being — that 
you  are  dearer  to  my  heart  than  all  in  this  world 
besides,  and  that  nothing  on  earth  shall  prevent  your 
being  mine  but  your  own  heart  and  your  own  will. 
You  say  you  have  always  been  accustomed  to  tell  the 
truth,  and  I  believe  you.  Tell  me — the  question  im- 
ports much,  and  your  answer  more — tell  me,  would 
you,  did  no  duty,  no  parental  authority  interfere — 
would  you  forbid  my  visits  after  what  I  have  now  said. 
Think  what  you  say,  and  answer  frankly." 

Miriam  reflected  a  few  minutes,  as  if  to  realize  the 
import  of  the  question,  and  then  firmly  replied — 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  81 

"  No— I  would  not ! — and  now  farewell,  Langley. 
I  see  my  father  coming,  and  your  meeting  would  give 
no  pleasure  to  either.  I  shall  tell  him  all  that  has 


"  Do  so,  dear  Miriam.  Let  us  have  no  conceal- 
ments. Our  only  sure  guide  through  this  world,  in 
joy  or  sorrow,  danger,  or  difficulty,  is  the  honest  truth, 
let  what  may  come.  Farewell  once  more — give  me 
your  hand.  I  shall  watch  over  you  at  a  distance, 
that  will  be  something  to  live  upon." 

"  Farewell,  Langley ;"  and  the  conceited  youth 
thought  he  actually  felt  a  gentle  pressure  of  her 
fingers. 

4* 


CHAPTER  YII. 

Another  Example  Set  by  Miriam,  which  Young  Ladies  may  Follow 
in  a  Similar  Predicament,  or  not,  just  as  They  Please— Harold 
again  Acting  on  Principle — The  Cavalier  Becomes  Unreasonable, 
'  and  Refuses  to  Consider  the  Matter,  lest  He  Should  Come  to  a 
Wrong  Decision — Is  Hugely  Tickled  with  the  Vision  of  an  Angel, 
Which  Is  Put  to  Flight  by  a  Woman— How  to  Manage  an  Unreason- 
able Husband — The  Cavalier  both  Astonished  and  Enraged — Indites 
a  Challenge,  but  Is  Prevented  from  Sending  It,  by  the  Discretion 
of  Gregory  Moth. 

IMMEDIATELY  on  the  return  of  her  parents  from  their 
walk,  Miriam,  with  that  calm  self-possession  ever  the 
result  of  a  consciousness  of  well  meaning,  detailed  to 
them  all  the  particulars  of  the  interview  with  Langley. 
The  mother  listened  with  somewhat  painful  anxiety, 
the  father  with  evident  disapprobation.  When  the 
daughter  had  concluded,  he  addressed  her  with  stern 
solemnity,  as  follows — 

"  Miriam — you  know  I  always  act  on  principle — I 
feared,  nay,  I  foresaw  this,  and  for  that  reason  forbade 
all  intercourse  with  that  profane  young  man,  who 
would  doubtless  lead  thee  to  the  path  of  destruction. 
He  is  one  of  the  followers  of  Belial,  and  were  he  to 
become  thy  guide  in  this  world  would  shipwreck  thy 
hopes  of  that  which  is  to  come.  Tell  me — I  know 


THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS   DAUGHTER.  83 

thou  wilt  speak  the  truth,  even  on  a  subject  where 
maidens  think  it  seemly  to  deceive  even  their  parents — 
tell  me,  hast  this  young  Philistine  touched  thy  heart  ? 
Come,  do  not  blush  and  hang  thy  head.  Remember, 
I  am  thy  father,  and  thy  mother  is  a  woman." 

Miriam  did  indeed  blush  and  hang  her  head,  and 
hesitated  before  she  answered — 
'  "  Father,  I  know  not  what  thou  meanest  by  touch- 
ing the  heart ;  but  if  to  think  often,  and  sometimes 
dream  of  him — if  to  wish  for  his  presence  and  regret 
his  absence — if  to  feel  myself  awakened  to  a  new 
existence,  and  to  live  and  move  in  a  world  I  never 
dreamed  of  before,  is  to  be  touched  at  the  heart,  then, 
I  fear,  I  am  indeed  touch  deeply." 

"  Enough — enough,  my  daughter,"  said  Susan ; 
"  thou  remindest  me  of  the  days  of  my  youth.  I 
recognize  thy  symptoms — say  no  more." 

"  Miriam,"  spoke  Harold,  after  a  silence  of  deep, 
intense  thought,  "  listen  to  what  I  am  about  to  say. 
The  young  man  hath  disclosed  his  love  to  thee,  and 
thou  hast  sufficiently  disclosed  thine  to  thy  parents. 
Thy  innocent  heart  is  indeed  deeply  touched,  as  I  well 
can  see.  Providence,  for  some  inscrutible  purpose, 
perhaps  to  try  thee  in  the  fire,  hath  baffled  all  my 
precautions.  As  a  father  I  have  a  right  to  forbid  thee 
to  think  more  of  that  reprobate  young  man." 

"Reprobate!"  exclaimed  Miriam,  timidly.  "For 
aught  I  have  ever  seen  of  him,  he  is  good  and  amia- 
ble, honest  and  true." 

"  It  may  be  so  in  the  estimation  of  those  who  judge 


84  THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS   DAUGHTER. 

a  man  by  his  acts  rather  than  his  faith,  and  substitute 
the  filthy  rags  of  good  works  for  the  sublime  mysteries 
of  the  incomprehensible  Creator.  But  whatever  he 
may  be,  he  is  not  of  thy  faith,  nor  are  his  habits,  man- 
ners, and  mode  of  thinking  like  ours.  He  belongs  to 
a  church  which  hath  persecuted  thy  father  and  thy 
mother ;  to  a  party  which  hath  forced  them  into  exile 
from  their  country,  whose  principles  are  in  eternal 
warfare  with  mine  and  thine,  and  to  whose  members 
our  habits  and  principles  are  subjects  of  ridicule,  if 
not  abhorrence.  To  live  in  harmony  with  such  a  man 
under  one  roof,  and  in  all  the  intimate  relations  of 
life,  either  thou  must  assimilate  with  him,  or  he  with 
thee.  In  the  natural,  not  to  say  inevitable  course  of 
things,  the  former  would  be  the  case;  the  weaker 
vessel  would  yield,  and  thou  wouldst  become  not  only 
a  backslider  from  thy  faith,  but  its  deadly  foe.  All 
that  I  have  done  and  suffered  in  the  hope  of  at  last 
enjoying  the  freedom  of  my  immortal  soul,  and  trans- 
mitting the  like  to  my  children  to  the  latest  posterity, 
will  thus  be  rendered  vain.  Thou  wilt  become  an 
apostate,  and  thy  children  will  follow  thy  example." 

He  paused,  deeply  affected  by  the  picture  he  had 
drawn,  and  Miriam  approached,  took  his  hand,  and 
said — 

"  Believe  it  not,  my  father.  The  persecutions  of 
the  living  and  the  dead  of  my  family  ;  the  blood  thou 
hast  shed  of  others,  and  thine  own,  and  the  sacrifices 
thou  hast  made,  have  caused  thy  faith  to  be  too  pre- 
cious to  me  ever  to  offer  it  up  on  any  worldly  altar. 


THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS   DAUGHTER.  85 

Speak  thy  commands.     I  will  not  say  I  am  convinced 
by  thy  arguments,  but  I  will  obey  thy  will." 

Harold  kissed  her  pale  cheek  affectionately,  and 
proceeded — 

"  I  command  nothing — I  will  nothing  ;  for  I  now 
see  that  to  do  so  is  only  to  lift  a  feather  against  "the 
wind.  While  I  thought  it  might  avail,  I  strove  to 
prevent  what  has  happened,  as  I  too  plainly  see,  by 
forbidding  all  intercourse  between  you.  But  it  is 
done,  and  I  will  interfere  no  more.  If  Master  Langley 
Tyringham  offers  thee  marriage,  with  the  approba- 
tion of  his  father,  I  leave  thee  to  thy  own  free  will  to 
decide.  Only  remember  this,  Miriam  ;  if  by  indulg- 
ing the  wishes  of  thine  heart,  thou  shouldst  break  that 
of  thy  father  ;  and,  if  in  vainly  reaching  after  happi- 
ness in  this  world  thou  should  forfeit  that  in  the  world 
to  come,  the  penalty  will  be  the  just  meed  of  the 
offence,  for  thou  alone  wilt  be  to  blame.  Thou  wilt 
have  offered  up  thy  soul  a  victim  to  thy  heart.  " 

Overcome  by  this  appeal,  Miriam  cast  herself  on  his 
bosom,  and  sobbed  out — 

"  Father,  never  while  thou  livest  will  I  leave  thee  ; 
never  while  I  live  will  I  disobey  thy  commands,  for  I 
know  thou  wilt  never  bid  me  do  wrong.  Be  satisfied 
— all  is  over."  He  pressed  her  to  his  heart,  and  thia 
prompt  obedience  made  him  almost  regret  this  harsh 
exertion  of  his  authority.  Susan,  who  had  remained 
a  silent  witness  of  the  scene,  now  drew  her  daughter 
away,  and  by  her  womanly  sympathy  calmed  her  into 
quiet  resignation. 


86  THE    PURITAN    AND   HTS   DAUGHTER. 

In  the  meantime  the  old  Cavalier  had  received  a 
full  and  true  account  of  the  state  of  his  heart,  and  his 
position  towards  Miriam,  from  Langley,  whose  frank 
and  manly  spirit  scorned  all  concealment.  He  was 
answered  by  a  tremendous  explosion  of  wrath,  levelled 
at  Crop-ears,  Roundheads,  Rebels  and  Republicans, 
not  forgetting  Oliver  Cromwell  and  the  Rump  Parlia- 
ment. He  denounced  them  all  in  a  lump,  for  divers 
grievous  offences,  such  as  making  long  prayers,  sing- 
ing psalms  through  their  noses,  and  cutting  their  hair 
in  an  unseemly  fashion  ;  swore  they  were  no  better 
than  Jews,  because  they  ate  cold  dinners  on  Sunday, 
and  concluded,  as  was  not  unfrequently  the  case 
when  the  froth  had  subsided  into  sediment,  with  some- 
thing like  a  sensible  observation,  to  wit :  that  enthu- 
siasm might  be  respectable  enough  in  its  growing 
state,  because  it  was  sincere  ;  but  that  nothing  was 
more  contemptible  than  enthusiasm  in  its  decline, 
since  it  was  always  replaced  by  hypocrisy. 

Master  Langley,  as  was  his  invariable  custom  when 
the  old  gentleman  indulged  himself  in  an  explosion, 
listened  in  respectful  silence.  But  when  the  storm 
had  a  little  subsided,  he  attempted  to  expostulate. 

"  But  consider,  my  dear  sir — " 

"  'Slife,  sir,  I  won't  consider.  I  never  considered 
but  once  in  my  life,  and  then  I  made  a  great  blunder. 
But  I  have  no  objection  to  hear  what  you  have  to  say, 
though  I  tell  you  beforehand  it  will  be  of  no  use. 
Come,  give  us  an  eulogium  on  Crop-ears,  and  particu- 
larly young  Crop-ear  damsels." 


THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS    DAUGHTER.  87 

Just  at  that  moment  Langley,  instead  of  duteously 
listening  to  his  father,  had  conjured  up  right  before 
him  the  picture  of  a  little  Crop-ear  damsel,  whose 
plain,  yet  touching  face,  graceful  symmetry  of  form, 
gently  waving  hair,  and  deep,  lustrous  eyes,  presented 
a  most  agreeable  subject  for  contemplation.  The 
whole  vision  defied  Puritanism,  most  especially  the 
hair,  which  obstinately  curled,  in  despite  of  the 
"Platform."  He  could  not  help  greeting  it  with  a 
smile,  which,  in  classic  phrase,  "  raised  the  old  Cava- 
lier's dander  pretty  considerably." 

"What,"  cried  he,  "  you're  laughing,  are  you?  I  can 
tell  you,  though  you  stand  there  grinning,  like  a  stone 
fence,  its  no  laughing  matter,  sir.  If  you  don't  instant- 
ly relinquish  all  claim,  right,  title,  interest,  reversion, 
remainder,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  to  this  little  Puri- 
tan Roundhead,  who  rebelled  against  the  King,  put 
down  the  bishops,  brought  one  monarch  to  the  block, 
and  exiled  another, — I  say,  sir,  if  you  don't  pronounce, 
renounce,  and  denounce  all  intercourse  in  thought, 
word,  or  deed,  with  this  witch  of  Endor,  you're  no  son 
of  mine — damme — that's-  all — now  laugh  at  that, 
sir." 

"  My  dear  father,"  replied  Langley,  who  was  not 
unaccustomed  to  these  tornados,  "  I  assure  you  I  was 
not  smiling  at  what  you  said.  There  was  nothing  in 
it  to  provoke  a  smile." 

"  No,  I  should  think  not.  You'll  find  it  a  serious 
business,  I  can  tell  you.  But  I  insist  on  knowing 
what  you  were  laughing  at,  sir." 


88  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

"  I  only  smiled,  sir  ;  I  was  not  laughing." 
"  Well,  sir,  that's  only  a  different  degree  of  imperti- 
nence.    What  were  you  smiling  at  ?" 
"  Why,  sir,  I  had  a  delightful  vision — " 
"  Bless  me  !   a  vision — the  fellow  is  half  Crop-ear 
already.     I  suppose  he  will  begin  to  prophecy  soon. 
Well,  what  was  it,  a  fiend  or  an  angel — eh  ?" 

"  An  angel,  sir.  A  little  Crop-eared  angel,  about 
the  middle  size,  with  a  face  as  innocent  as  a  dove  ; 
teeth  white  as  snow  :  lips  red  as  a  cherry  ;  a  neck  like 
a  swan ;  a  shape  like  Venus ;  hair,  every  thread  of 
which  might  form  a  chain  for  captive  hearts,  and  eyes 
in  which  you  see  reflected  a  bright  heaven  of  love  and 
purity." 

"  By  Jupiter  !"  exclaimed  the  old  Cavalier,  rubbing 
his  hands,  "  I  should  like  to  see  such  a  vision.  It 
must  have  been  an  angel." 

"  What's  that  you  are  saying  about  angels,  my 
dear  ?"  said  Mistress  Tyringham,  at  that  moment  com- 
ing into  the  room,  and  putting  to  flight  the  angelic 
vision.  Now,  whether  this  inopportune  diversion  in 
favor  of  Langley  grated  harshly  on  his  feelings,  for 
people  don't  like  to  be  interrupted  in  giving  lectures — 
or  that  the  abrupt  dispersion  of  the  vision  produced 
that  effect,  we  cannot  say,  but  certain  it  is  the  Cava- 
lier took  it  somewhat  in  dudgeon.  Mistress  Tyring- 
ham, though  a  woman  of  ten  thousand,  was  not  alto- 
gether lovely.  In  fact  she  was  rather  a  contrast  to 
Langley's  angel. 

"What  was  I  saying,  my  dear" — for  he  was  partic- 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  89 

ular  in  always  treating  his  wife  with  gentlemanly 
courtesy — except  when  he  forgot  it — "what  was  I 
saying  about  angels  !  Why,  I  was  telling  this  young 
gentleman  who  has  visions  and  dreams,  that  I  would 
see  him  hanged  before  he  should  marry  the  Round- 
head's daughter." 

"  La  !  my  dear,  I'm  sure  that  was  not  much  like 
an  angel.  Why  did  you  so  earnestly  wish  to  see  one 
just  at  such  a  time  ?  I  declare  I  begin  to  be  quite 
curious." 

"  Why  my  dear — because — hang  me  if  I  know 
exactly.  Langley,  can't  you  tell  me  ?"  Langley 
shook  his  head.  "  Well,  then,  I  believe  it  was  because 
I  see  them  so  seldom." 

"  Well  my  dear,  that's  a  sufficient  reason  to  satisfy 
a  reasonable  woman,"  and  the  good  lady  departed  per- 
fectly pontented,  for  she  liked  to  tease  her  husband  a 
little  sometimes,  after  the  manner  of  all  discreet 
wives. 

"  Plague  take  the  woman — no — Heaven  bless  the 
dear,  good  old  soul" — she  was  only  ten  years  younger 
than  her  husband.  "  Heaven  bless  her.  But  she  has 
thrown  me  completely  out  of  the  traces.  Where  was 
I,  Langley  ?" 

"  Why  sir,  according  to  the  best  of  my  recollection, 
I  think  you  were  just  about  giving  your  full  consent 
and  approbation  to  my  marriage  with  the  little  Crop- 
eared  angel  I  saw  in  my  dream,  and  who  took  your 
fancy  so  much." 

"  Why,   you   impudent   young  scapegrace  !      But 


90  THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS    DAUGHTER. 

enough  of  this — I  am  a  man  of  few  words.  You 
know  my  mind,  and  I  once  more  repeat,  that  if  you 
marry  that  young  Roundhead,  you  are  no  son  of 
mine." 

"  My  dear,"  asked  Mistress  Tyringham,  putting  her 
head  inside  the  door — "  My  dear,  would  you  like  to 
have  the  chickens  roasted  or  fried  for  dinner  ?  But 
what  were  you  saying  about  Langley  being  no  son  of 
yours !  You  ought  to  be  ashamed,  my  dear,  of  throw- 
ing out  such  insinuations  against  an  honest  woman." 
"  Pshaw !"  said  the  Cavalier  testily. 
"Well,  pshaw  or  no  pshaw — I  say  you  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  yourself.  And,  Langley,  as  you  are,  it 
seems,  relieved  from  all  obligations  of  duty  to  your 
respected  father,  I  am  clearly  of  opinion  you  may  go 
arid  marry  Miriam  Habingdon,  as  soon  as  you  can  gain 
her  consent.  But,  my  dear,  you  have  not  decided 
about  the  chickens." 

"  'Slife,  Jenny,  what's  got  into  you,  to-day?  What 
do  I  care — fry  them,  or  broil  them,  or  roast  them,  or 
boil  them,  in  the  devil's  name,  for  all  me." 

"Well,  my  dear,  I  suppose  that  means  plenty  of 
cayenne  pepper.  Gregory !  Gregory  Moth !  Please 
go  and  tell  Black  Rose  to  tell  Phebe  to  tell  Phillis  to 
put  plenty  of  cayenne  inside  and  out  of  the  chickens. 
Her  master  wants  them  a  little  devilled,  as  he  feels  ra- 
ther chilly  this  cool  morning."  The  thermometer  was 
at  ninety.  The  excellent  matron  departed,  laughing 
in  her  sleeve,  contented  with  having  made  her  hus- 
band a  little  ashamed  of  himself,  without  resorting  to 


THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS   DAUGHTER.  91 

the  ultima  ratio  re  gum  of  matrimony — arguing  the 
question,  which  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  produces 
contention.  The  great  secret  for  preserving  domestic 
harmony  is  to  let  all  parties  do  as  they  like,  and  if 
they  are  rational,  good-tempered  people,  they  will 
naturally  like  to  please  each  other.  If  they  are  not 
so,  there  is  no  use  in  argument. 

But  to  return  to  our  story.  This  interruption  of 
good  Mistress  Tyringham  again  threw  the  Cavalier 
completely  off  the  track  ;  but  he  soon  found  it  again, 
and  repeated  the  sentence  of  disinheritance  with 
renewed  vigor. 

"  My  dear  father,"  said  Langley,  "  It  is  quite  unne- 
cessary, I  have  just  been  dismissed  by  the  young  lady, 
by  command  of  her  father,  with  strict  injunctions  not 
to  visit  her  again." 

"  What,"  cried  the  astonished  Cavalier,  "  rejected 
— refused — cut  adrift  by  a  Roundhead — a  Crop-ear — 
a  rebel  to  his  king,  and  a  renegade  from  his  mother 
church  !  Why  'slife,  what  is  the  meaning  of  all  this  ? 
The  son  and  heir  of  sixteen  generations  of  Cavaliers, 
rejected  by  the  daughter  of  a  Crop-ear,  and  turned  out 
of  the  house  by  a  Roundhead !  Here,  Gregory,  Gregory 
— saddle  old  Rowley  instantly.  Rejected — a  son  of 
mine,  only  four  degrees  removed  from  a  title — by 
Jupiter  Amnon,  the  whole  generation  of  Crop-ears  shall 
answer  for  the  insult.  Langley,  this  makes  matters 
ten  times  worse,  and  if  you  have  the  spirit  of  a  man, 
you  will  implicity  obey  my  command.  You  may  go — 
I  see  Gregory  coming  with  old  Rowley." 


92  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

Langley  departed,  just  as  Gregory  entered,  and  as 
usual,  inquired  what  his  master  wanted.  On  being 
informed  of  the  gross  insult  offered  to  the  house  of 
Tyringharn,  and  that  he  was  to  be  the  bearer  of  a 
defiance,  as  there  was  no  gentleman  in  the  neighbor- 
hood to  perform  that  office.  He  demurred  exceed- 
ingly, for  he  had  an  insuperable  antipathy  to  fighting, 
or  having  anything  to  do  with  it.  He  insisted  that  the 
occasion  by  no  means  called  for  such  decisive  action  ; 
that  the  honor  of  the  family  rather  required  no  notice 
should  be  taken  of  this  slight ;  and  that  being  so 
greatly  opposed  to  the  match,  his  master  ought  to  be 
rather  highly  pleased  than  mortified,  at  what  would 
place  an  insuperable  obstacle  in  its  way. 

"  'Slife,  Gregory,  I  say  again  for  the  hundredth  time 
at  least,  that  you  are  the  most  astonishingly  discreet 
knave,  for  so  great  a  fool,  I  ever  met  with.  You  talk 
sometimes  like  Friar  Bacon's  head,  and  sometimes  as 
if  you  had  no  head  at  all." 

"  Ah  sir  !  when  I  take  into  serious  consideration 
that  it  is  not  the  fashion  for  wise  men  to  speak  wisely 
at  all  times,  methinks  it  were  a  great  pity  that  fools 
should  not  enjoy  the  like  privilege.  Wise  fools,  sir,  are 
just  as  common  as  foolish  wise  men.  The  world  is 
divided  between  them." 

"  Gregory  Moth,  I  pronounce  you  one  of  the  seven 
champions — I  mean  one  of  the  seven  wise  men  of 
Greece,  who  like  his  sacred  majesty,  King  Charles, 
according  to  that  villain  Rochester,  never  said  a  fool- 
ish thing  nor  ever  did  a  wise  one.  Truly,  Moth,  if 


THE    PURITAN   AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  93 

your  valor  were  only  proportioned  to  your  wisdom,  you 
would  be  as  great  a  wonder — as — as — zounds  !  I  was 
never  good  at  a  comparison."  , 

"  You  mean,  doubtless,  sir,  to  say,  that  my  valor  is 
as  disproportioned  to  my  discretion,  as  your  discretion 
is  to  your  valor.  Surely,  never  master  and  man  were 
so  well  fitted.  You  will  defend  me  by  the  strength  of 
your  arm,  and  I  will  enlighten  you  by  the  thickness 
of  my  head.  Thus  shall  we  two  be  invincible." 

"Well,  well — we  won't  dispute  that  matter;  espe- 
cially as  I  can  always  get  the  better  of  you  by  the 
argumentum  ad  baculinum,  as  we  say  at  Oxford.  I 
have,  or  to  do  justice,  you  have  thought  better  on  this 
subject.  It  would  be  making  the  Roundhead  of  too 
much  consequence  to  call  him  out  on  such  an  occasion. 
The  honor  of  my  family  is  safe  from  such  a  mushroom 
of  yesterday."  The  doughty  Cavalier  forgot  that  the 
family  of  Habingdon  could  beat  him  hollow  counting 
centuries. 

"  To  be  sure,  sir,"  replied  Gregory ;  "especially  as 
you  would  have  the  trouble  of  horsewhipping  him 
afterwards ;  for  he  would  not  accept  your  defiance. 
He  won't  fight ;  he  has  scruples  of  cowardice,  com- 
monly called  conscientious  scruples." 

"  No,  no,  Gregory  ;  to  do  him  justice,  he  is  no  cow- 
ard. He  is  as  brave  as  old  Noll,  and  quite  as  ready 
to  meet  danger  as  you  are  to  run  away  from  it." 

"  I  run  away  from  danger,  sir !  Didn't  I  utterly 
discomfit  and  put  to  flight  the  barbarians  when  your 
house  was  sorely  beleagured,  and  that  with  my  single 


94  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS   DAUGHTER. 

arm  ?  If  you  had  not  shut  me  up  in  the  cellar — I  say 
nothing,  but  the  copper- colored  caitiffs  would  not  have 
escaped  scot-free  as  they  did,  to  the  immortal  disgrace 
of  all  Christendom." 

This  sally  put  the  Cavalier  in  high  good  humor,  and 
he  proceeded  to  consult  Gregory  on  the  subject  of 
Langley's  attachment,  which  he  communicated  as  a 
great  secret. 

"  I  knew  it  long  ago,  sir,"  said  Gregory. 

"  You  !  ah — I  know — you  are  always  wiser  than 
other  people,  especially  in  knowing  things  after  they 
have  come  to  pass.  How  did  you  know  it,  pray  ?" 

"  Why,  sir,  he  once  threatened  to  crop  my  ears  for 
calling  the  young  lady  a  Crop-ear ;  and  I  clearly  dis- 
cerned from  this,  and  other  infallible  symptoms,  that 
my  young  master  had  been  converted  by  the  gospel 
of  eyes." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  advise  me  to  do  ?" 

"  Nothing,  sir ;  when  King  Brute  and  his  valiant 
Trojans—" 

"  D n  King  Brute  and  his  valiant  Trojans ; 

what  have  they  to  do  with  this  matter  ?" 

"  0,  a  great  deal,  sir.  Had  they  not  come  to  Eng- 
land, the  great  university  of  Oxford,  whose  learning  is 
heaped  up  like  sand,  and  is  equally  productive,  would 
probably  have  never  existed,  at  least  on  that  identical 
spot, ;  and  the  church  and  the  bishops  might,  for 
aught  I  know,  have  given  place  to  such  cattle  as  pres- 
byters and  conventions  instead  of  councils  and  convo- 
cations. Think  of  that,  sir." 


THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS    DAUGHTER.  95 

"  Certainly,  all  this  is  highly  interesting  ;  but  just 
now  I  want  your  counsel  on  other  matters.  What  do 
you  advise  me  to  do  with  Langley.?" 

"Nothing,  sir;  let  things  alone.  Love  is  like  a 
brush  heap  on  fire ;  the  more  you  stir  it,  the  more 
sparks  and  flames.  Let  it  alone,  and  it  will  burn  out  of 
itself.  See  you  not,  sir,  that  the  fire  always  advances 
against  the  wind  ?" 

"Well,  I  believe  I'll  take  your  advice.  But,  harkee, 
Gregory,  if  it  turns  out  badly,  I'll  make  an  example 
of  you." 

"  You  can't  have  a  better,  sir,"  answered  Gregory, 
conceitedly  ;  and  the  old  Cavalier  departed  to  dress  for 
dinner,  a  custom  he  always  observed,  being  resolved, 
he  said,  to  be  a  gentleman  one  half  the  day,  at  all 
events. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

A  Little  Truth,  by  "Way  of  a  Treat — Causes  and  Consequences — 
Harold  Transgresses  the  Law  by  Obeying  the  Gospel — Inconveni- 
ence of  being  a  Justice  of  the  Peace — The  Justice  Seeks  Counsel 
from  a  Wise  Fool,  like  the  Illustrious  Panurge — Harold  once  more 
before  a  Magistrate — Is  Fined  and  Adopts  an  Important  Resolution 
— Soliloquy  of  the  Justice,  which  Begins  very  sensibly,  but  Ends 
in  Nothing. 

THE  people  of  the  colony  of  Virginia  was  at  this  period 
both  loyal  and  orthodox ;  for  though  they  made  very 
little  ceremony  in  opposing  the  shadow  of  the  king  in 
the  person  of  his  puissant  governor,  they  reverenced 
the  substance  in  the  person  of  his  master.  It  was,  as 
everybody  knows,  originally  settled  by  Cavaliers,  roys- 
tering  younger  sons,  victims  to  the  firstborn  of  Egypt, 
who  sought  the  New  World  to  better  their  fortunes, 
or  it  may  be  from  pure  love  of  adventure,  and  brought 
with  them  the  habits  as  well  as  principles  of  loyalty 
to  church  and  state.  The  former  they  retained  for 
several  generations,  but  the  latter  soon  became  greatly 
modified  by  the  irresistible  influence  of  the  free  air 
they  breathed,  and  the  vast  space  occupied  by  the  in- 
dividual man,  which  instilled  into  him  a  deep  con- 
sciousness of  his  own  personal  importance,  as  well  as 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  97 

almost  boundless  freedom  of  action.  In  order  to  make 
men  slaves  they  must  be  crowded  together,  and  elbow- 
ed on  every  side,  as  is  the  case  in  Europe. 

In  the  first  institution  of  the  colonial  government  of 
Virginia,  no  other  form  of  faith  was  tolerated  but  that 
of  the  church  of  England,  and  penalties  were  de- 
nounced against  all  dissenters,  similar  to  those  at  that 
time  inflicted  by  the  law  of  England.  All  those  who 
absented  themselves  from  the  established  worship  on 
Sunday  were  fined,  unless  they  could  give  satisfactory 
reasons  for  their  absence ;  and  various  other  severe 
statutes  were  in  force  against  dissenters,  especially 
Quakers  and  Anabaptists.  It  was  an  age  of  intole- 
rance, and  as  all  lived  in  glass  houses  at  that  time, 
posterity  should  be  careful  how  they  cast  the  first  stone. 

During  the  civil  wars,  and  especially  under  the 
ascendency  of  the  latter  period  of  the  Long  Parliament, 
these  penal  laws  were  retaliated  on  the  Church  of 
England,  which  received  a  sample  of  the  treatment 
she  had  accorded  to  others.  On  the  restoration,  per- 
secution again  returned  to  its  old  channel,  and  the 
laws  against  dissenters  were  perhaps  more  rigidly 
enforced  in  the  colony  in  consequence  of  a  conspiracy 
of  some  of  Oliver  Cromwell's  Old  Ironsides,  who  sought 
an  asylum  there,  and  came  near  to  achieving  a  revo- 
lution. 

The  Quakers  were  especially  obnoxious,  not  only  to 
the  Established  Church,  but  to  the  Puritans,  and  met 
with  no  quarter  from  either.  It  was  about  this  time, 
that  a  few  stragglers  from  this  non-resisting  sect 

VOL.    II.  5 


y»  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

sought  refuge  from  the  persecutions  of  those  whom 
persecution  had  taught  to  persecute,  among  the  people 
of  the  South,  they  having  no  other  refuge,  as  Pennsyl- 
vania was  then  a  pathless  wilderness.  Without  mean- 
ing to  offer  the  slightest  apology  for  religious  persecu- 
tion, that  indelible  stain  on  the  white  surplice  of 
Christianity — it  may  be  remarked,  that  it  is  not 
always  the  persecuted  are  innocent  of  all  offence,  save 
a  difference  of  opinion.  Zeal  and  enthusiasm  are  sel- 
dom content  with  mere  toleration  and  the  passive 
enjoyment  of  impunity.  Instead  of  quietly  hoarding 
what  they  already  possess,  they  not  only  seek  to  make 
converts  from  other  sects,  but  are  prone  to  denounce 
all  creeds  but  their  own,  without  mercy,  and  without 
measure. 

It  will  also,  in  most,  perhaps  all  cases,  be  found  that 
innovations  in  religion  necessarily  involve  innovations 
in  civil  governments,  by  interfering  with  long  estab- 
lished maxims  of  law,  as  well  as  long  existing  social 
institutions.  To  these  causes  we  may,  beyond  doubt, 
trace  much  of  the  persecution  for  which  religious 
opinions  were  made  the  pretext,  but  which  were  in  a 
great  measure  owing  to  that  connection  between 
church  and  state,  which,  wherever  it  has  existed,  has 
converted  the  trumpet  of  Zion  into  a  signal  for  discord 
and  bloodshed,  and  the  gospel  of  peace  into  a  bone  of 
contention  for  ambition  and  avarice. 

There  is  perhaps  another  key  to  the  persecutions  of 
the  Quakers.  By  the  early  laws  of  New  England  and 
Virginia,  every  able-bodied  man  was  obliged  to  bear 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  99 

arms  in  the  public  defence.  This  was  indispensable  to 
the  very  existence  of  these  colonies  for  a  long  time 
after  their  establishment ;  and  the  Quakers  by  refus- 
ing to  perform  the  highest  duty  of  the  citizen — that 
of  defending  the  State — not  only  rendered  themselves 
liable  to  the  penalties  of  the  law,  but  set  an  example 
which,  had  it  been  extensively  followed,  would  have 
rendered  all  the  early  colonies  an  easy  prey  to  the 
savages.  That  a  sect  which  obstinately  refused  to 
contribute  to  the  defence  of  a  community  in  whose 
safety  they  participated,  and  in  whose  advantages  they 
determined  to  partake,  should  have  been  unwelcome 
visitors,  ought  not  to  be  matter  of  surprise,  nor  can  it 
be  justly  charged  against  those  who  were  perpetually 
risking  their  lives  for  the  protection  of  those  who 
refused  to  protect  themselves  or  others.  Undoubtedly 
bigotry  had  something  to  do  in  the  business,  and  dropt 
her  venom  into  the  cup  of  bitterness.  But  there  were 
faults  on  both  sides,  and  the  best  lesson  to  be  derived 
from  the  history  of  those  times  is  that  of  universal 
forbearance. 

Some  two  or  three  of  these  wandering  exiles  had 
found  their  way  to  Virginia,  which  was  yet  smarting 
under  the  tomahawk  and  scalping  knife,  and  to  whose 
surviving  colonists  their  tenets  could  not  fail  of  being 
peculiarly  obnoxious,  as  impairing  the  great  obligation 
of  self-defence.  They  were  completely  under  the 
dominion  o£  enthusiasm,  or  more  properly,  fanaticism 
— for  persecution,  if  it  does  not  find,  always  makes 
fanatics,  and  very  soon  attracted  the  attention  of  the 


100  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

civil  authorities  by  attempting  to  make  converts,  as 
well  as  by  disturbing  the  service  of  the  Established 
Church.  Sentence  of  banishment  was  passed  on  them  ; 
but  they  refused  to  depart  voluntarily  and  resisted 
force.  They  became,  in  short,  a  species  of  outcasts, 
wandering  about  without  a  home,  and  often  without  a 
refuge.  It  happened  that  one  of  these  forlorn  fugitives 
arrived  at  the  dwelling  of  Harold  Habingdon  in  a  most 
destitute  condition,  half  crazed  with  fatigue,  hunger, 
and  fanaticism.  He  was  received  with  kindness,  as  a 
fellow-creature  in  distress,  though  Harold  bitterly 
abhorred  his  tenets,  and  remained  some  days  before  he 
recovered  sufficiently  to  resume  his  erratic  career. 

Some  one  of  those  petty  officials,  the  pestilenal  pro- 
duct of  penal  laws,  and  every  other  species  of  misrule, 
who  always  outstrip  their  betters,  in  zeal  for  a  bad 
cause — becoming  acquainted  with  this  affair,  laid  an 
information  before  the  old  Cavalier,  against  Harold, 
for  harboring,  comforting,  and  relieving  a  sinner 
against  the  statute  in  such  case  made  and  provided. 
Master  Justice  Tyringham  was  excessively  annoyed 
at  this  proceeding.  As  a  magistrate,  it  was  his  duty 
to  enforce  the  laws  ;  but  though  he  utterly  eschewed 
the  Roundhead,  and  would  have  fought  him  with  all 
his  heart,  still,  as  a  neighbor  he  could  not  reconcile  it 
to  his  feelings  to  proceed  against  him.  They  had,  it  is 
true,  crossed  their  swords  in  the  civil  wars  ;  but  they 
had  since  stood  side  by  side  under  his  own  roof,  mutu- 
ally defending  each  other. 

"  Confound  the  Crop-ear,"  muttered  he  to  himself — 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  101 

"  what  right  has  he  to  place  me  in  this  predicament  ? 
I  must  either  violate  my  oath  as  a  magistrate,  or  my 
conscience  by  doing  an  ill-office  to  my  neighbor,  who, 
though  a  rebel  and  a  Roundhead,  is  a  brave  man  and 
a  good  soldier,  I  will  say  that  for  him  ;  though  how 
a  fellow  that  neither  drinks  nor  swears  can  be  either 
one  or  the  other  is  beyond  my  comprehension."  At 
the  end  of  this  monologue,  he  called  in  the  aid  of 
Master  Gregory,  who  acted  as  his  clerk  on  all  official 
occasions,  and  handing  him  the  information,  asked — 
"  what  shall  I  do  in  this  confounded  business, 
Moth  ?" 

"  Why  sir,"  answered  Gregory,  after  due  considera- 
tion— "  If  I  were  you — that  is  to  say,  if  you  were  me 
— you  would  first  give  notice  to  Master  Habingdon, 
that  he  might  get  out  of  the  way,  and  then  issue  a 
warrant  to  apprehend  him." 

"He  get  out  of  the  way?  He'd  see  me  hanged 
first.  He  won't  stir  a  peg.  Your  genuine  Crop-ear 
can  no  more  live  without  a  dose  of  wholesome  persecu- 
tion now  and  then  than  a  fowl  without  gravel.  It 
keeps  up  his  bristles,  and  makes  his  orthodoxy  as  stiff 
as  a  poker.  No,  no— that  won't  do,  Gregory.  If 
there  was  another  New  World  he  might  seek  refuge 
there  ;  but,  take  my  word,  he  won't  budge  an  inch." 

"  That  being  the  case,  sir,  if  I  were  in  your  place 
— I  mean,  if  you  were  in  my  place,  you  would  do  a 
good  action  for  once  in  your  life." 

"Why,  you  insolent  varlet,  do  you  dare  to  insinuate 
that  I  never  did  a  good  action  ?" 


102  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

"You  misunderstand  me  altogether,  Justice  Tyring- 
ham.  Do  not  you  comprehend  that  I  am  speaking  as  it 
were  of  myself,  seeing  I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  put- 
ting my  own  proper  person  in  place  of  your  own  proper 
person — ergo,  logically  speaking,  it  is  I  that  never  did 
a  good  act,  not  you,  my  most  honored  master." 

"  "Well,  well — go  on  in  your  own  way." 

"  As  I  was  saying — or  rather,  to  speak  more  accu- 
rately, as  I  was  about  to  say — I  would  respectfully 
recommend  that  you  perpetrate,  as  it  were,  a  good 
deed,  by  flying  in  the  face  of  the  law,  and  acting 
according  to  the  gospel,  by  doing  unto  your  neighbor 
as  you  would  be  done  by.  It  is  not  seemly  in  one  of 
your  station  to  pay  attention  to  a  rascally  informer, 
who  I  hereby  strenuously  advise  you  to  fine  and  im- 
prison in  place  of  Master  Habingdon,  who,  though  I 
hate  as  a  Roundhead,  I  somehow  or  other  respect, 
against  my  conscience." 

"  It  won't  do — I  tell  you  it  won't  do,  Gregory.  This 
good  act,  as  you  call  it,  will  lead  to  the  loss  of  mine 
office ;  and  what  is  far  worse,  the  disgrace  of  my  per- 
son and  character.  'Slife,  sir,  I  should  go  near  to  be 
taken  for  a  Roundhead,  or  a  Quaker,  which  last  I  most 
especially  abhor,  because  they  will  not  fight  either  in 
a  good  cause  or  a  bad  one." 

"  Well,  Master  Justice,  that  is  the  very  thing.  A 
good  act  that  costs  a  man  nothing  is  worth  just  what 
it  costs.  It  is  like  unto  a  beggar's  dinner  for  which 
he  pays  no  reckoning,  and  is  no  better  than  scraps  and 
bones.  Besides,  sir,  admitting  that  this  one  neighborly 


THE    PURITAN   AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  103 

act  should  be  attended  by  evil  consequences  to  your- 
self, you  have  only  to  perform  ninety-nine  more,  and  I 
will  venture  to  predict,  that  one  out  of  the  hundred 
will  repay  you  for  all  the  rest." 

"  By  Saint  Gregory  the  Great,  your  remarks  are 
theoretically  right,  but,  what  is  very  provoking,  prac- 
tically wrong.  My  oath  of  office,  Gregory  Moth — my 
public  duties  as  a  magistrate,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing — don't  you  see  I  am  acting  double,  as  it  were, 
and  am  pulled  two  different  ways  between  a  choice  of 
evils  ?  But  it  don't  signify  talking,  I  must  have  the 
Crop-ear  up,  and  fine  him  according  to  the  statute. 
If  he  won't  pay,  as  I  take  for  granted  will  be  the  case, 
for  he  is  as  obstinate  as  a  mule,  and  always  acts  on 
principle,  why  he  may  go  to  the  devil,  that's  all ;  for 
you  know  there  is  no  jail  nearer  than  the  capital, 
and  I  shall  get  rid  of  this  confounded  business.  Make 
out  the  warrant,  and  I'll  dub  you  a  constable  to  exe- 
cute it ;  so  that  eternal  busybody,  who  has  given  me 
all  this  trouble,  will  be  despoiled  of  his  fees." 

Gregory  obeyed  orders ;  the  warrant  was  signed,  and 
the  old  Cavalier  dubbed  him  a  constable  by  laying  his 
cane  across  his  shoulders.  Proceeding  on  his  mission, 
and  finding  the  culprit  at  home,  he  performed  his  duty 
agreeably  to  the  instructions  of  his  master,  in  the  most 
approved  as  well  as  courteous  style,  informing  him  that 
Master  Justice  Tyringham  was  unwillingly  enforcing 
the  law,  as  a  magistrate. 

This  proceeding  caused  great  consternation  in  the 
minds  of  the  Roundhead's  wife  and  daughter,  the  for- 


104  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

mer  of  whom  still  preserved  a  vivid  recollection  of  the 
persecutions  of  her  parents,  and  her  own  sufferings  in 
the  days  of  her  youth.  She  was  struck  with  grief  and 
dismay  at  what  she  believed  a  renewal  of  them  in  the 
New  World,  whither  they  had  fled  to  avoid  them. 
She  pictured  to  herself  the  long  catalogue  of  imprison- 
ments, scoffs,  stripes,  and  maimings  which  had  marked 
the  footsteps  of  the  demon  of  spiritual  pride ;  and, 
ignorant  of  the  colonial  law,  as  well  as  the  somewhat 
milder  spirit  with  which  it  was  administered,  looked 
forward  to  seeing  Harold  return  marked  with  igno- 
minious stripes,  or  possibly  without  his  ears.  Poor 
Miriam,  too,  bowed  under  the  infliction,  which  weighed 
the  more  heavily  as  coming  from  the  father  of  one 
who,  she  felt,  was  every  day  becoming  more  dear  to 
her  heart  and  her  imagination.  She  was  now  com- 
pelled to  associate  him  with  the  persecutors  of  her 
father,  and  her  fair  yet  gentle  spirit  rose  in  unsuccess- 
ful revolt  against  the  feelings  of  her  heart.  As  Harold 
was  preparing  to  obey  the  summons,  both  wife  and 
daughter  hung  about  his  neck,  beseeching  for  permis- 
sion to  accompany  him  and  share  his  fate.  But  he 
resolutely  declined,  while  he  comforted  them,  saying — 
"  Be  not  cast  down,  my  beloved.  I  am  not  afraid, 
though  I  little  thought  that  persecution  would  track 
me,  like  a  bloodhound,  into  the  forests  of  the  New 
"World.  But  be  of  good  comfort ;  if  I  understand  the 
law,  the  utmost  that  can  be  inflicted  is  a  fine,  and,  in 
default  of  payment,  a  prison.  Is  it  not  so,  Master 
Moth?" 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  105 

Gregory  signified  assent,  and  Harold,  mounting  his 
steed,  accompanied  him  to  the  seat  of  justice.  The 
old  Cavalier,  who  saw  them  coming,  felt  more  like  a 
criminal  than  a  magistrate  ;  but,  by  a  great  rally, 
mustered  sufficient  dignity  to  receive  him  with  the 
stiff  solemnity  of  a  citizen  in  office.  He  began  by 
apologizing,  which  was  cut  short  by  Harold,  who 
interrupted  him,  saying — 

"  There  is  no  necessity,  Master  Tyringham,  for 
apology.  You  are  a  magistrate,  and  must  do  your 
duty.  The  law  is  the  tyrant,  not  those  who  enforce 
it." 

"  Hush,"  answered  the  Cavalier,  "  remember  that 
respect  is  due  to  the  laws,  which  should  be  reverenced 
as  well  as  obeyed." 

"  I  know  no  difference,  sir,  between  the  oppressions 
of  the  law  and  the  tyranny  of  a  single  despotic  will 
But  enough  on  this  point.  May  I  ask  of  what  offence 
I  am  accused  ?" 

"  That  of  aiding,  comforting,  and  consorting  with 
one  who  has  been  banished  from  the  colony  for  flying 
in  the  face  of  the  law  and  the  gospel.  Here  is  the 
witness." 

"My  offence  requires  no  witness.  I  acknowledge 
it,  without  scruple  and  without  compunction.  There 
came  a  wretched  man  to  my  door,  weak,  hungry,  and 
almost  naked.  I  did  not  ask  him  his  creed,  nor  did  I 
inquire  whence  he  came,  or  whither  he  was  going. 
I  saw  he  was  a  man,  and  that  he  wanted  succor, 
for  his  face  was  pale  and  thin,  and  his  limbs  trembled 
5* 


106  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

as  he  stood  leaning  on  his  staff.  I  received  him  into 
my  house,  for  he  was  an  outcast  from  all  others,  and  I 
and  mine  administered  to  his  necessities  till  he  recovered 
and  went  his  way.  I  saw  that  his  faith  was  neither 
mine  nor  thine,  but  it  seemed  to  me  that  was  no 
reason  why  he  should  perish,  like  a  beast  of  the  field, 
in  the  midst  of  Christian  men  and  fellow-creatures. 
I  have  suffered  persecution,  and  God  forbid  I  should 
ever  inflict  it  on  others." 

He  spoke  this  in  the  sincerity  of  his  soul,  forgetting 
that,  for  some  time  past,  he  had  been  unconsciously 
acting  on  the  same  principle  which  dictated  the  law 
under  which  he  was  now  smarting,  and  inflicting  on 
two  amiable  beings  far  more  severe  penalties,  solely  on 
account  of  a  difference  of  opinion.  But  all  mankind 
are  liable  to  these  delusions,  and  in  truth  are  seldom 
self-satisfied  but  when  they  deceive  themselves. 

The  sturdy  old  Cavalier  winced  not  a  little  at  the 
view  of  the  subject  presented  by  Harold,  and  was  per- 
fectly conscious  that,  in  a  like  case,  he  himself  would 
have  done  the  same.  He  could  not  help  acknowledg- 
ing it  was  a  hard  case  that  a  man  should  be  punished 
for  an  act  of  humanity.  But,  at  the  same  time,  there 
was  something  in  Harold's  manner  and  appearance 
which  so  forcibly  reminded  him  of  the  "preaching 
rascals,"  as  he  called  them,  who  had  beaten  him  and 
his  brother  Cavaliers  so  soundly  at  Marston  Moor  and 
Naseby,  that  his  newly  awakened  feelings  yielded  to 
his  anciejit  inveterate  prejudices,  and  he  relapsed  into 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  107 

the  stern,  inflexible  magistrate,  who  forgets  the  spirit 
of  the  law  in  acting  up  to  the  letter. 

"  Master  Harold  Habingdon,"  said  he,  "  it  is  not  for 
you  or  I  to  sit  in  judgment  on  the  laws  of  the  land, 
but  to  obey  them.  It  is  true  we  are  commanded  by 
the  Grospel  to  love  our  neighbor  as  ourself ;  but  if  the 
law  says  the  contrary,  why  there  is  no  more  to  be  said. 
You  have  subjected  yourself  to  fine,  as  well  as  imprison- 
ment, in  default  of  payment.  But  as  the  jail  has  been 
burnt  by  the  savages  the  law  must  remit  that  penalty. 
I  shall,  therefore,  inflict  the  fine,  as  is  my  duty  ;  but 
whether  you  pay  it  or  not  is  none  of  my  business,  nor 
shall  I  trouble  myself  on  the  subject.  You  are  free, 
sir." 

Harold,  however,  insisted  on  paying  the  fine,  and  the 
justice  and  culprit  separated  with  most  ceremonious 
politeness,  though  the  dislike  of  the  former  was  mate- 
rially increased  by  having  been  thus  forced  to  act 
against  his  better  feelings  by  the  innocent  agency  of 
the  latter  ;  and  Harold  felt  most  keenly  the  conviction, 
that  persecution  and  bigotry  were  citizens  of  the 
world,  at  home  everywhere.  On  his  way  home,  and 
after  his  return,  he  silently  brooded  awhile  in  the 
recesses  of  his  mind,  and  having  apparently  come  to  a 
decision,  called  his  wife  and  daughter,  to  whom  he 
announced  his  determination  to  depart  from  the  colony" 
of  Virginia,  and  seek  refuge  in  New  England.  Susan 
received  the  announcement  in  silent  acquiescence ; 
Miriam  started  and  turned  pale,  but  said  not  a  word. 


108  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

Harold,  always  prompt  in  action,  proceeded,  without 
delay,  in  carrying  his  project  into  execution. 

At  this  period,  the  intercourse  between  Virginia  and 
New-England  was  altogether  by  sea,  a  great  portion 
of  the  intervening  country  being,  as  previously  stated, 
a  howling  wilderness.  But  intercourse  of  any  kind 
was  extremely  rare  ;  and  though  at  long  intervals  a 
coasting  vessel  from  Boston  or  Salem  would  find  her 
way  into  the  Chesapeake,  on  a  voyage  of  speculation, 
yet  this  produced  nothing  like  friendly  or  social  inter- 
course. The  old  leaven  of  the  mother  country  still 
fermented  in  the  bosoms  of  the  emigrants  to  the  New 
World,  and  to  this  day  is  not  altogether  extinct.  On 
inquiry,  however,  Harold  had  the  good  fortune  to  find 
at  the  capital  a  schooner  of  moderate  size,  bound  for 
New  England,  and  lost  no  time  in  making  his  arrange- 
ments. A  man  who  is  ready  to  take  what  he  can  get 
soon  finds  a  purchaser ;  and  he  managed  to  arrange 
not  only  his  domestic  but  money  matters  so  speedily, 
that  he  was  ready  to  embark  before  the  schooner  was 
ready  to  sail. 

Now,  when  the  old  Cavalier  heard  of  the  intention 
of  his  old  neighbor,  and  saw  his  prompt  preparations 
to  carry  it  into  effect,  his  heart  smote  him  with  the 
recollection  of  his  enmity,  and  especially  his  late 
magisterial  exercise  of  power.  He  felt  a  conviction 
that  this  latter  was  the  immediate  cause  of  this 
second  exile,  and  fell  into  a  train  of  reflection,  which 
may  be  embodied  in  the  following  words  : 

"  'Slife  !  I  wonder  what  is  the  reason  people  who 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  109 

call  themselves  Christians  can't  live  together  in  peace 
and  quiet  like  Christians,  instead  of  squabbling,  fight- 
ing, backbiting,  and  spitting  at  each  other,  like  so 
so  many  crabs  in  a  basket  ?  Here  now,  are  Master 
Habingdon  and  I,  thrown  by  the  vicissitudes  of  life 
into  a  new  world,  of  which  we  may  almost  be  said  to 
be  the  sole  Christian  inhabitants  ;  and  yet  we  can't  live 
together  as  friends  and  brothers,  and  why  ?  He  is  a 
brave,  upright  man,  and  has  never  done  a  mean  act 
since  he  came  here,  and  I — 'slife,  I'll  say  that  for  my- 
self— am  neither  a  coward,  a  hypocrite  or  a  rogue,  for 
I  never  turned  my  back  on  friend  or  foe,  except  at 
Marston  Moor  and  Naseby.  I  did  scamper  there  like  a 
rabbit,  that's  certain.  Yes,  the  bloody  Crop-ears,  with 
their  infernal  long  prayers,  and  psalm  singing, 
scattered  us  like  chaff  before  the  wind,  and  may  I 
never  eat  venison  again,  if  I  forgive  them.  A  Round- 
head, is  a  Roundhead,  old  world  or  new,  and  there's 
an  end  of  it.  Let  him  go  to  New  England,  or  New 
Guinea  and  welcome — joy  go  with  him — I'm  glad  he 
is  going." 

So  the  two  neighbors  who  had  lived  several  years  in 
sight  of  the  smoke  of  each  other's  chimneys,  parted 
without  bidding  farewell,  though  the  chances  were  a 
hundred  to  one  they  would  never  meet  again. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

Unaccountably  Perverse  Conduct  of  Miriam — A  Message  by  Gregory 
Moth,  who  Makes  Mischief— An  Evening  in  the  South,  which 
actually  Ushers  in  an  Apology  for  a  Love  Scene,  which  will,  It  Is 
feared,  not  altogether  Satisfy  the  Reader,  for  Want  of  Sufficient 
High  Seasoning — A  Last  Parting. 

WHEN  Miriam  left  the  room,  after  hearing  the  resolu- 
tion of  her  father,  to  bid  an  eternal  farewell  to  the 
banks  of  the  Powhatan,  the  first,  perhaps  the  only 
thought  that  occupied  her  mind  was,  that  she  should 
never  see  Langley  Tyringham  again,  and  the  cold 
thrill  that  shivered  through  her  heart  taught  her,  for 
the  first  time,  how  precious  was  the  certainty  of  being 
near,  though  she  might  not  see  him.  There  was 
something  in  the  idea  of  proximity,  exquisitely  sooth- 
ing, just  as  the  soft  luminaries  of  the  heavens,  twink- 
ling with  reflected  lustre,  administer  a  sweet  delight 
to  the  contemplative  spirit,  though  for  ever  beyond  its 
reach.  "We  know  they  are  there  ;  we  realize  their  pre- 
sence ;  they  exist  to  us,  though  all  intercourse  is  for- 
bidden. She  was  resigned  to  the  thought  of  their 
never  coming  together,  so  long  as  it  was  possible  for 


THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS   DAUGHTER.  Ill 

them  to  meet;  but  when  an  insurmountable  barrier 
was  placed  between  t&em,  and  all  hope  of  its  ever 
being  removed  was  over,  she  felt  a  saddening  gloom, 
such  as  had  never  come  over  her  spirits  before.  It 
was  no  longer  a  sacrifice  to  filial  duty,  or  an  offering 
on  the  altar  of  faith,  but  an  irresistible  destiny  which 
took  away  all  the  merit  of  voluntary  submission. 

"  Where  is  he  ?"  thought  Miriam.  "  Will  he  not 
come  and  bid  me  farewell !  But  I  have  forbid  his 
coming,  and  he  promised  to  obey.  Yet  now  that  I  am 
going  away,  to  be  forever  separated  by  stormy  seas,  and 
impassable  wilds,  if  he  disobeyed  me,  I  think  I  could 
forgive  him.  I  should  like  to  see  him  once  more,  if 
only  to  tell  him  to  forget  that  he  ever  loved  me,  and 
that  I  will  never  forget  him.  Surely  he  cannot  know 
that  we  depart  so  soon — for  I  feel  if  I  were  him,  I 
could  not  rest  without  a  last  farewell." 

These,  and  such  reflections,  were  perpetually  inter- 
rupted by  the  necessity  of  exertion  in  preparations  for 
their  departure.  Yet  they  only  returned  with  renewed 
strength,  from  their  temporary  suppression.  The 
nearer  the  period  of  departure  approached,  the  stronger 
became  her  anxiety  to  see  Langley  once  more,  as  well 
as  her  conviction  that  she  might  do  so  without  violat- 
ing the  spirit  of  her  promise  to  her  father.  But  she 
was  not  of  a  nature  to  rest  in  doubt  on  any  point  of 
filial  duty,  and  one  day  frankly,  though  covered  with 
blushes,  asked  permission  of  Harold,  to  send  for 
Langley. 

"  Miriam,"    said   he — "  wouldst    thou    wed    this 


112  THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS    DAUGHTER. 

young  man  ?  Tell  me  truly,  and  without  maidenly 
hypocrisy." 

"  No  father — at  least  not  against  thy  will." 

"  Then  why  wish  to  see  him  again  ?" 

"  I  scarcely  know.  But  if  he  were  only  a  common 
acquaintance,  living  as  we  have  so  long  near  neigh- 
bors, and  having  been  sheltered  from  death  under  his 
father's  roof,  to  go  thus  without  taking  leave  would 
increase  the  pain  of  parting.  Why  then,  since  we  are 
still  near  to  each  other,  should  we  part  without  bidding 
farewell  ?" 

"  Because,  my  daughter,  it  will  only  make  your 
parting  more  painful." 

"  No  so,  my  father — at  least  not  to  me  ;  and  I  trust 
not  to  him.  I  wish  very  much  to  say  a  few  parting 
words  to  Langley." 

"  To  tell  him  to  remember  you,  Miriam  ?" 

"  No — to  tell  him  to  forget  me.  To  tell  him,  as  I 
would  without  being  ashamed,  that  though  if  no 
insuperable  obstacle  interposed,  I  would  gladly  be  to 
him  what  my  mother  is  to  you,  yet  as  that  is  impos- 
sible, when  we  are  far  away  from  each  other,  he  must 
think  of  me  no  more." 

"  My  dear  daughter,"  said  Harold,  kindly — for  his 
principles  were  prone  to  yield  to  his  feelings — "  you 
overrate  your  firmness,  I  fear.  The  sight  of  this  youth 
for  the  last  time  will  soften  you  to  yielding  acquies- 
cence, and  he  will  extort  from  you  pledges  you  can 
never  fulfil  without  disobedience  to  your  father,  and 
belying  your  faith  to  heaven." 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  113 

"  Is  there,  then,  more  than  one  Grod,  and  do  not  he 
and  I  both  believe  in  him  ?  Is  there  more  than  one 
Saviour,  and  is  not  he  equally  so  to  both  of  us  ?  But 
of  this  no  more.  I  owe  my  father  obedience,  and  the 
debt  shall  be  paid.  I  am  but  a  simple  girl,  but  I  so 
far  know  myself  as  that  I  feel  I  can  sacrifice  my  own 
dearest  wishes  to  my  father  and  to  my  faith.  I  beseech 
thee,  father,  to  let  me  see  him  once  more.  Mother, 
wilt  thou  not  entreat  for  me  ?" 

Susan  had  been  present  during  this  dialogue,  but 
did  not  interfere,  for  she  knew  it  would  be  ill  taken 
on  the  part  of  Harold,  whose  system  of  domestic  gov- 
ernment by  no  means  approximated  towards  republi- 
canism. She,  however,  answered  this  appeal,  by 
saying  to  her  husband — 

"  When  we  parted  at  the  gate  of  the  prison,  in  days 
long  passed,  I  would  have  given  much  to  exchange  a 
few  words  with  thee ;  and  it  added  sorely  to  my  sor- 
row at  parting,  that  we  could  only  take  a  silent  fare- 
well." 

This  reference  to  former  times  awakened  a  long 
train  of  recollections  in  the  mind  of  Harold,  which 
softened  his  heart  and  relaxed  his  will.  He  at  length 
granted  the  prayer  of  his  daughter,  and  a  message  was 
sent  to  request  the  presence  of  Langley  Tyringham. 
The  servant  returned  with  the  intelligence  that  he  had 
been  absent  for  some  time  past  at  the  capital  on  spe- 
cial business,  and  that  the  period  of  his  return  was 
quite  uncertain.  He  received  this  information  from 
Master  Gregory,  who  being,  as  the  reader  knows,  a 


114  THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS    DAUGHTER. 

most  inveterate  joker  in  his  way,  concluded  in  the  fol- 
lowing words — 

'"  They  say  he  has  gon^pbn  my  master's  business, 
but  I  reckon  I  know  better.  There  is  a  young  lady  in 
the  case,  and  I  smell  a  wedding  before  long.  But  its 
a  great  secret,  and  you  must  promise  not  to  tell  a 
living  soul." 

Gregory  well  knew  the  state  of  his  young  master's 
affections,  but  his-  infirmity  of  jesting  was  aided  on 
this  occasion  by  a  long-cherished  antipathy  to  the 
Crop-ears,  and  he  felt  great  satisfaction  in  throwing 
a  random  arrow  that  struck  deep  where  it  fell.  The 
bearer  of  the  message  kept  his  promise  so  far,  that  he 
only  told  the  secret  to  Mildred,  and  the  rest  may  easily 
be  imagined. 

Miriam  received  the  first  item  of  this  news  in  silent 
sorrow,  but  the  latter  portion  caused  her  to  turn  deadly 
pale.  "  He  requires  no  consolation  from  me,"  she 
thought,  but  gave  her  thoughts  no  tongue.  The  suc- 
ceeding morning  was  destined  for  their  departure. 
During  the  day  she  seemed  a  different  being  from  what 
she  had  ever  been  before.  Her  habit  was  always  that 
of  repose  and  self-possession ;  but  now  she  scarcely 
remained  still  for  a  moment.  She  wandered  about  the 
house,  apparently  without  object;  but  it  might  have 
been  noticed,  that  her  steps  always  rested  awhile  at 
an  open  window,  that  looked  toward  the  abode  of 
Master  Tyringham.  Towards  sunset,  she  told  her 
father  she  wished  to  take  a  last  walk  on  the  banks  of 
the  river.  He  proposed  to  accompany  her,  but  she 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  115 

said  she  preferred  going  alone,  and  he  acquiesced  in 
her  wishes. 

It  was  a  scene  to  mak^|ene  melancholy  in  bidding 
it  a  last  farewell.  The  sun  had  just  slipt  behind  the 
distant  hills  that  rose  in  waving  outlines  above  the 
level  borders  of  the  river,  and  left  a  flood  of  glory 
behind  him  in  the  evening  sky.  A  range  of  airy  and 
fantastic  clouds  sleeping  quietly  in  the  lap  of  Heaven 
skirted  the  horizon,  never  moving,  but  perpetually 
varying  in  shape  and  color,  and  exhibiting,  in  their 
changes,  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow.  The  river  slept 
in  a  dead  calm.  Not  a  single  tiny  wave  broke  on  the 
white  pebbled  shore,  and  not  an  object  moved  on  its 
surface  but  a  little  skiff,  paddled  by  two  negroes,  who 
kept  time  to  the  homely,  yet  pathetic  old  ditty,  which 
has  for  its  burden  "  Long  time  ago."  In  the  silence 
and  distance  its  simple  pathos  was  exquisitely  touch- 
ing ;  and  the  plagiarist  mock-bird,  after  stilling  his 
song  and  listening  a  while,  vainly  attempted  to  catch 
its  plaintive  melody.  It  was  one  of  those  scenes  which, 
though  they  awaken  no  joyous  feelings,  are  dear  to 
the  senses,  the  imagination,  and  the  memory.  "When 
not  overwhelmed  with  sorrow,  or  smarting  under  the 
lash  of  remorse,  they  seldom  fail  to  inspire  a  pleasing 
and  luxurious  melancholy,  divested  of  all  painful 
recollections  of  the  past,  all  gloomy  anticipations  of 
the  future.  We  confess  our  delight  in  lingering  about 
such  scenes  as  this  we  have  just  sketched,  and  that  we 
would  fain  inspire  our  readers  with  a  taste  which  can 
at  all  times  be  so  easily  gratified.  It  is  a  cheap,  as 


116  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

well  as  blameless  luxury  ;  it  costs  no  sacrifice,  and  is 
followed  by  no  regrets  ;  it  is  one  of  those  pleasures  for 
which  we  pay  nothing,  in  tike  past,  the  present,  or  the 
future ;  and  in  a  world  where  every  good  we  enjoy 
seems  to  be  so  dearly  purchased,  it  is  a  great  privilege 
to  banquet  at  the  feast  without  paying  the  reckoning. 
It  is,  moreover,  a  pleasure  at  all  times,  and  everywhere 
within  reach ;  and,  while  it  appeals  to  the  senses,  is, 
at  the  same  time,  a  step  in  Jacob's  ladder,  leading 
from  earth  to  Heaven,  since  there  is  an  inseparable 
link  between  the  great  Architect  of  the  Universe  and 
His  glorious  works. 

Miriam  wandered  on,  too  full  of  that  within  to  notice 
that  without ;  or,  if  it  called  her  attention  for  a 
moment,  it  was  only  accompanied  by  the  painful  con- 
viction she  should  behold  it  no  more.  There  is  some- 
thing in  this  that  makes  parting  even  with  what  we 
little  value  more  or  less  painful.  To  part  for  ever  in 
this  world,  brings  with  it  the  certainty  that  we  shall 
die  before  we  meet  again.  It  is  a  foreshadowing  of 
death,  which,  though  the  common  lot  of  all  the  living, 
is  still  a  grisly  spectre,  clothed  if  not  in  terror,  at  least 
in  dread  uncertainty.  We  will  not  insult  our  reader 
by  telling  what  Miriam  was  thinking  about,  as  she 
paced  along.  If  he — and  more  especially  she — cannot 
divine  it,  let  her  remain  in  endless  ignorance,  and 
never  know  what  it  is  to  be  crossed  in  love.  As  she 
proceeded  thus  unconsciously,  she  all  at  once  distin- 
guished footsteps  behind  her  rapidly  approaching,  but, 
supposing  them  those  of  some  one  of  the  slaves  in  the 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  117 

neighborhood,  felt  neither  alarm  nor  curiosity.  There 
was  but  one  being  she  wished  to  see,  and  he  was 
absent.  Presently  the  footsteps  were  close  at  her 
side,  and  she  heard  a  well-known  voice  of  panting 
earnestness  close  to  her  ear. 

"  Forgive  me,  Miriam,  for  once  more  intruding  on 
you.  But  I  have  just  returned,  after  a  long  absence — 
at  least  long  to  me — and  heard  that  you  were  going 
away  to-morrow  to  a  distant  land,  where  I  shall  never 
see  you  again.  You  will  forgive  me  for  breaking  my 
word." 

"  I  have  nothing  to  forgive,"  answered  she,  in  a  low 
voice,  "  nor  is  your  presence  an  intrusion.  I  was 
thinking  of  you — I  wished  to  see  you." 

"Me  ! — me,  Miriam,  after  forbidding  my  presence  so 
peremptorily,  almost  sternly." 

"  Langley,  at  that  time  I  could  not  see  you  without 
a  breach  of  duty — without  disobeying  my  father.  I 
have  now  his  permission  to  see  you." 

"  Is  it  possible,  Miriam  ?  What  am  I  to  understand 
from  this  ?" 

"  That  we  meet  for  the  last  time.  Nay,  do  not 
interrupt  me,  for  our  time  is  short,  and  I  have  much 
to  say.  Once,  and  but  once,  thou  saidst  I  was  dear  to 
thee,  and  I  believed  it.  But  it  is  past  now.  I  have 
just  heard,  with  satisfaction" — and  the  tear  started 
from  her  eye — "  that — that  thou  hast  found  one  still 
dearer  than  I  ever  was,  or  ever  wish  to  be." 

"  I,  Miriam  ?     Who  told  you  so  ?" 


118  THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS    DAUGHTER. 

"A  little  bird,"  said  Miriam,  with  a  melancholy 
smile. 

"  There  is  no  truth  in  little  birds,  now  that  the 
reign  of  the  fairies  is  past.  I  have  not  found — I  shall 
never  find  one  dearer  to  my  heart  than  you.  My 
absence  was  an  indispensable  business  for  my  father, 
and  I  have  just  returned  to  hear  you  are  going  away 
to-morrow.  But  you  say  you  have  permission  from 
your  father  to  see  me.  Has  he  relented  ?" 

"Alas!  no.  Et  was  through  my  persuasion,  and 
that  of  my  mother,  that  he  consented  to  a  parting 
interview.  He  will  never  relent,  for  he  believes  him- 
self right,  and  nothing  can  move  him.  This  is  our 
last  meeting,  Langley." 

"  Then,  would  to  Heaven  we  had  never  met." 

"  Say  not  so,  Langley.  To  me,  at  least,  it  will  be 
a  source  of  melancholy  pleasure  to  think  of  thee,  and 
to  know  that  we  parted  as  friends.  That  here,  as  on 
the  brink  of  the  grave,  with  a  gulf  like  that  which 
separates  time  and  eternity  between  us,  we  shook 
hands  across  the  abyss,  and  bade  farewell,  not  to  for- 
get, but  to  remember  each  other." 

"  You,  at  least,  will  soon  cease  to  remember  me, 
Miriam  ?" 

"  No  ;  I  am  not  one  of  those  whose  feelings  are 
suddenly  awakened,  and  as  suddenly  subside,  nor  do  I 
forget  what  I  cease  to  see.  I  know  that  thou  wilt  live 
in  my  memory  till  I  am  dead.  Though  I  may  mourn 
our  separation,  I  can  yet  live  upon  my  thoughts." 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  119 

"  Thoughts,"  interrupted  Langley,  impatiently, 
"  thoughts  are  shadows." 

"  With  me  it  is  not  so,  Langley.  My  recollections 
of  the  past  shall  take  place  of  my  anticipations  of  the 
future.  I  may  cease  to  hope,  but  I  will  not  despair. 
I  will  still  think  thou  rememberest,  long  after  thou 
hast  forgotten  me,  and  this  will  be  my  consolation, 
that  I  shall  never  know  it.  My  ignorance  will  be  my 
happiness." 

There  was  a  sad  simplicity,  a  deep,  yet  sober, 
heartfelt  seriousness  in  the  look,  tone,  and  manner  of 
the  little  Puritan,  as  she  thus  gave  utterance  to  the 
feelings  of  her  pure  heart  that  struck  on  that  of  Lang- 
ley,  entered  deeply,  and  choked,  for  a  moment,  the 
utterance  of  his  feelings,  while  she  remained  in  that 
outward  calm  that  far  more  than  fiery  words,  or 
violent  gestures,  bespeaks  the  depth  of  the  noiseless 
current. 

"  Ah !  Miriam,"  at  length  he  said,  "  If  I  could  but 
feel  as  you  do — if  I  could  wrap  myself  up  in  cold  sub- 
mission to  the  will  of  another,  I  should  bear  your 
absence  more  patiently.  But  why  should  we  part? 
In  family,  in  fortune,  and  in  years  we  are  suited  to 
each  other.  We  have  been  thrown  together  almost 
alone  by  ourselves  in  the  wilderness,  and  our  hearts 
have  become  as  one.  Why  then  should  we  part  ?" 

"  My  father  wills  it,  and  his  will  is  mine.  He  may 
be  severe,  he  may  be  unjust  in  his  commands,  but 
where  is  my  warrant  that  I  am  right  and  he  is  wrong  ? 
He  is  my  father  ;  he  has  reared  me  from  infancy,  and 


120  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

I  am  still  dependent  on  him  for  every  comfort  I  enjoy. 
It  is,  therefore,  my  duty  to  obey  him,  unless  in  so 
doing  I  violate  a  higher  duty." 

A  shade  passed  over  Langley's  brow.  He  did  not 
relish  this  view  of  the  subject,  and  his  old  prejudice 
against  the  Crop-ears  roused  up  and  began  to  growl. 
But  it  was  only  for  a  moment,  and  it  lay  down  and 
and  slept  again. 

"  Then  you  are  content,  Miriam,  to  give  me  up,  and 
if  your  father  commands,  give  yourself  to  another." 

"  No,"  replied  she,  firmly,  "  while  my  heart  belongs 
to  thee,  Langley,  it  would  not  only  be  a  gross  decep- 
tion, but  the  breach  of  a  holy  vow,  to  promise  obedi- 
ence and  love  to  another.  My  father  has  no  right  to 
command  that,  and  if  he  did,  I  neither  could  nor 
would  obey  him.  My  duty  goes  no  farther  than  not 
to  choose  against  his  will.  He  cannot  choose  for  me. 
He  cannot  give  away  what  I  have  already  bestowed 
on  another." 

"  Miriam — Miriam — you  reason  only — you  do  not 
love." 

"  Thou  wrongest  me,  Langley.  I  shall  love  thee 
long  after  thou  hast  ceased  to  love  me.  We  are  going 
— at  least  such  is  my  father's  intention — into  a  lonely 
region  of  a  distant  country,  where  I  shall  have  few 
companions  but  my  own  thoughts,  and  little  to  divert 
them  from  the  past.  There  will  be  nothing  but 
silence  and  nature  around  me,  and  my  associates  will 
be  the  creations  of  my  fancy,  or  my  memory.  Ah ! 
if,  as  thou  sayest,  I  reason  coolly,  it  is  not  because  I 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  121 

do  not  feel,  but  that  true  and  lasting  love  is  as  much 
the  offspring  of  reason  as  of  passion.  You  accuse  us 
Puritans  of  canting,  but  the  worst  cant  is  that  which 
excuses  the  crimes  and  excesses  of  love,  by  placing  it 
above  the  restraints  of  reason  and  virtue." 

"  Did  you  wish  then  to  see  me  once  more,  only  that 
you  might  lecture  me  into  forgetting  you  ?"  said 
Langley,  in  dissatisfaction. 

"No,  Langley.  I  wished  to  reconcile  thee., to  our 
parting.  As  little  do  I  wish  thee  to  forget  me  as  I 
wish  to  forget  thee.  AVhy  cannot  we  continue  to  love 
each  other  as  well  absent  as  present  ?  :Jfhy  cannot 
we  be  contented  with  thinking  of  each  other  ?" 

"  Thinking !  it  is  only  bread  and  water  to  the 
starving  heart.  But  I  will  urge  you  no  more.  1 
love  you  too  well  to  tempt  you  to  disobedience,  and 
involve  myself  in  the  same  offence.  Nay,  I  know  you 
too  well  to  believe  I  could  be  successful  in  attempting 
it.  I  know,  too,  that  you  could  never  be  happy,  or 
bestow  happiness  on  me,  by  deserting  your  parents, 
and  inflicting  on  your  own  heart  the  sting  of  ingrati- 
tude. I  know  that  we  must  part,  but  I  own  I  could 
wish  to  see  thee  a  little  less  resigned.  Oh !  only  seem 
to  be  miserable  like  me,  and  I  will  try  to  be  content." 

"  Langley — dear  Langley,  have  done  with  these 
useless  complaints.  Do  not  think  me  devoid  of  feel- 
ing, because  both  habit  and  example  have  taught  me 
restraint.  Ah !  if  thou  couldst  see  into  my  heart ! 
and  thou  shalt  see  it !"  exclaimed  she,  with  a  sudden 
burst  of  feeling.  "  Thou  shalt  know  all  my  heart. 

VOL.    II.  6 


122  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

"Why  should  I  conceal  a  thought  or  feeling  from  thee, 
when  we  are  about  to  part  forever  ?  It  is  but  trusting 
the  grave  with  our  secrets — it  is  but  whispering  in  the 
ear  of  death,  for  soon  we  shall  be  dead  to  each  other. 
To-morrow  we  shall  be  as  shadows,  every  hour  becom- 
ing more  dim,  and  at  length  fading  into  nothing  but  a 
phantom  of  memory.  Oh  !  Langley,  if  thou  knewest 
how  dear  thou  art  to  me  !  The  first  and  last  fruits  of 
my  heart  are  yours,  for  I  never  loved  before  but  with 
filial  affection.  To  be  thine  would  fill  the  measure  of 
my  happiness — but  it  cannot  be — there  is  a  gulf 
between  us  that  we  must  never  pass.  But  I  conse- 
crate myself  to  thee  while  I  live,  and  I  give  thee  this 
first  and  last  kiss  in  token  that  my  lips  shall  never 
again  be  pressed  by  those  of  any  man  but  my  father." 
Saying  this,  she  clasped  him  around  the  neck,  and 
pressed  her  lips  to  his  and  wept  on  his  bosom.  He 
murmured  vows  of  lasting  love  ;  he  pressed  her  to  his 

.••  heart,  and  paid  back  the  kiss  with  ample  interest. 
Recovering  a  portion  of  her  wonted  self-command,  she 
cut  short  his  protestations. 

•  "  Nay,  dearest  Langley,  no  vows,  no  oaths.  Thou 
art,  thou  must  be  free.  I  am  but  a  woman,  and  can, 

§  I  trust,  fulfil  my  humble  duties  in  the  little  circle  of 
domestic  life,  while  I  continue  to  cherish  thy  memory 
and  devote  myself  to  thee.  But  thou  art  a  man,  and 
shouldst  devote  thyself  to  thy  fellow  men.  Thy  father 
and  thy  mother,  thy  friends  and  thy  country  demand 
thy  cares  and  exertions.  Thou  art  called  upon  to 
perform  all  the  duties  of  a  man,  which  thou  canst  not 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  123 

do  while  devoted  to  one  object  alone.  All  I  ask  of 
thee  is  to  remember  me  sometimes  on  an  evening  like 
this,  when  taking  a  lonely  walk  along  the  path  we 
are  now  treading  for  the  last  time.  I  will  be  with 
thee  then." 

Langley  could  not  answer  for  his  emotions,  we 
might  say  his  temptations.  He  longed  to  tempt  her, 
by  all  the  arts  love  teaches  his  votaries,  to  sacrifice  all 
to  love  ;  to  forget  herself,  her  duties,  and  her  home. 
But  he  was  a  man  of  principle,  as  well  as  feeling,  and 
at  length,  by  a  great  effort  conquered  the  enemy.  He 
felt  it  would  be  the  most  dastardly  cruelty  to  attempt 
to  persuade  her  to  a  step  which  would  at  the  same 
time  deprive  her  of  one  home  without  his  being  able  to 
offer  her  another.  He  knew  the  bitter  religious  and 
political  feelings  of  his  father  would  exile  them  from 
his  home  and  his  heart,  and  determined  to  submit  to 
his  fate  like  a  man.  His  reflections  were  interrupted 
by  Miriam,  who  said,  in  a  low,  tremulous  voice —  :^ 

"  Now  it  is  time  to  go  home.  It  is  growing  dark, 
and  I  must  return." 

Langley  made  no  opposition,  for  he  was  quite  broken 
down.  His  reason  yielded,  but  his  heart  rebelled ;  and 
his  mind  was  benumbed  by  conflicting  emotions.  They 
proceeded  in  silence  and  gathering  darkness,  until  they 
arrived  at  the  rustic  gate  opening  into  the  lawn,  when 
Miriam  softly  said — 

"Wilt  thou  not  go  in  and  bid  my  father  farewell !" 

"No — I  am  no  favorite,  and  my  presence  will 
scarcely  be  welcome.  Tell  him,  if  you  will,  that  I 


124  THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS    DAUGHTER. 

wish  him  all  the  happiness  of  which  he  has  deprived 
me." 

They  paused  awhile,  as  if  each  had  something  to 
say  to  the  jother.  At  length  he  whispered — "  I  must 
repay  you  the  debt  I  owe,"  and  taking  her  to  his  arms 
impressed  a  long,  lingering  kiss  on  her  cold  lips.  Only 
one  word  was  spoken — a  mutual  farewell.  Miriam 
broke  from  his  arms,  proceeded  rapidly  towards  home, 
and  passing  her  father,  merely  said — "  I  will  tell  thee 
all  to-morrow," — ran  to  her  chamber,  and  appeared  no 
more  that  night.  Langley  did  not  return  home  till 
late  in  the  night,  having  spent  hours  in  wandering 
along  the  river  side,  recalling  the  sweet  yet  bitter  ban- 
quet of  the  preceding  hour. 


CHAPTER  X. 

A  Deserted  Mansion — Captain  Skeering — An  Extraordinary  Voyage 
•without  Tempest  or  Shipwreck — Arrival  at  Naumkeag — State  of 
Affairs  there- — Mildred  Suspected  of  Witchcraft — A  Pilgrimage 
through  the  Wilderness — Scene  on  a  River — Excommunication  of 
the  Demon  of  Water  Power— End  of  the  Pilgrimage. 

NEXT  morning  betimes  the  house  of  Harold  Habingdon 
was  deserted,  the  doors  and  windows  closed,  and  no 
smoke  curled  from  the  chimney,  as  Langley  looked 
that  way,  and  saw  its  inmates  departing  to  return  no 
more.  Then  he  turned  away  in  all  the  apathy  of  chill 
despair.  The  little  party  proceeded  to  the  capital, 
where,  the  vessel  being  ready,  they  speedily  embarked, 
and  Harold  was  once  more  on  the  seas,  seeking  a  sec- 
ond asylum  in  the  solitudes  of  the  New  World.  The 
course  of  our  story  leads  us  to  accompany  him  on  his 
voyage. 

The  vessel  which  carried  Harold  and  his  fortunes 
was  in  all  respects  so  unlike  a  Liverpool  or  Havre 
packet  of  the  present  day,  when  far  greater  pains  are 
taken  to  make  people  more  comfortable  abroad  than  at 
home,  that  to  compare  would  only  be  to  contrast  them 
with  each  other.  She  was  sorely  laden  with  a  miscel- 


126  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

laneous  cargo  of  such,  inconceivable  articles,  that 
though  the  insertion  would  save  us  at  least  a  dozen 
pages  of  wear  and  tear  of  thought  or  invention,  we  are 
compelled  to  give  it  up  in  despair.  It  was  a  veritable 
cargo  of  notions,  and  the  bill  of  lading  almost  as  capa- 
cious as  Captain  Skeering's  flying  jib.  The  cabin,  the 
lockers,  and  the  rat  holes,  were  all  stowed  choke  full ; 
and  Harold,  on  insinuating  himself  into  his  birth, 
found  his  pillow  stuffed  with  tobacco  stems,  which 
every  body  knows  are  an  excellent  commodity  for 
snuff  making.  Now  Captain  Skeering  well  knew, 
that  though  the  good  people  of  Naumkeag  abhorred 
smoking,  yet  did  many  of  them  quiet  their  consciences 
by  snuff  taking. 

Touching  Captain  Abiel  Skeering,  he  was  one  of 
those  strange,  unaccountable,  nondescripts,  that  never 
were,  and  never  will  be  found  anywhere,  but  in  his 
own  country.  He  cultivated  a  little  farm,  cobbled 
shoes  in  winter,  and  at  intervals  caught  codfish,  either 
along  shore,  or  on  the  coasts  of  Newfoundland  and 
Labrador.  Between  whiles  he  traded  to  the  Manha- 
does,  Virginia,  and  the  "West  Indies,  up  Connecticut 
River,  and  the  Lord  knows  where.  There  was  not  a 
hole  or  corner  in  which  he  did  not  poke  his  bowsprit 
to  smell  out  a  bargain ;  and  what  is  very  remarkable, 
he  never  went  anywhere  without  finding  one.  He 
once  made  a  capital  speculation  by  being  cast  away 
on  Cape  Cod,  not  by  defrauding  the  underwriters,  but 
by  exchanging  rusty  nails  for  wampum.  In  short,  he 
was  one  of  those  wise  men  who  never  fail  to  convert  a 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  127 

misfortune  into  a  benefit.  He  was  unquestionably  an 
expert  seaman,  for  he  went  where  no  one  else  ever 
thought  of  going ;  and  though  he  never  saw,  heard, 
nor  dreamed  of  a  nautical  almanac,  managed  to  find 
his  way  all  the  world  over,  by  dint  of  a  combination 
of  skill,  luck,  and  sagacity.  He  was  undoubtedly 
amphibious,  and  for  aught  we  know,  his  mother  might 
have  been  a  mermaid,  for  his  marine  instincts  seemed 
equal  to  those  of  our  Indians  in  the  woods. 

Though  to  use  his  own  expression,  "  he  had  followed 
the  sea  ever  since  he  was  knee  high  to  a  grasshopper," 
he  never  met  with  but  one  disaster,  out  of  which,  as 
before  stated,  he  made  a  capital  speculation.  Cap- 
tain Skeering  was,  withal,  an  easy,  quiet,  good- 
tempered  man,  and  reasonably  honest ;  though  when 
it  came  to  a  bargain,  it  must  be  confessed,  he 
shaved  rather  close.  Like  all  wise  men,  he  preferred 
asking  questions  to  answering  them.  He,  moreover, 
smacked  enormously  of  the  Puritan,  and  he  and 
Harold  got  on  exceedingly  well  together,  notwith- 
standing the  latter  was  sometimes  a  little  put  out, 
by  the  captain  putting  in  at  rivers,  creeks,  bays, 
and  inlets,  to  see  if  there  was  anything  stirring  in 
the  way  of  a  bargain,  though  to  all  appearance 
there  was  scarcely  room  to  stick  a  pin  in  his  ves- 
sel. He  knew  what  people  at  ever  so  great  a  distance 
wanted,  quite  as  well,  if  not  better,  than  they  did 
themselves ;  and  if  he  could  only  be  set  going,  you 
might  pump  out  of  him  more  practical  knowledge  than 
would  set  up  an  academy  of  science. 


128  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

Under  the  auspicious  destiny  of  this  sagacious,  self- 
taught  mariner,  the  vessel  proceeded  on  her  way,  some- 
times becalmed  on  the  wide  watery  waste,  and  at 
others,  somewhat  rudely  buffeted  by  the  winds  and 
waves.  Captain  Skeering  put  in  at  the  Manhadoes,  or 
New  Amsterdam,  then  in  its  cradle,  where  he  aston- 
ished the  smoking  burghers,  by  asking  an  infinite 
number  of  questions,  whereby  he  gathered  sufficient 
information  to  make  a  successful  adventure  to  that 
famous  port,  on  his  next  voyage.  From  thence  the 
made  a  desperate  push  through  the  Helle-Gatte, 
escaped  the  Pot,  the  Frying  Pan,  and  the  Hog's  Back  ; 
squinted  at  the  little  embryo  settlement  of  New  Haven  ; 
passed  into  the  mouth  of  the  Connecticut  river,  traded 
a  day  or  two  with  the  Indians  of  Montauk  Point ;  had 
a  great  notion  of  trying  his  luck  in  Narragansett  Bay  ; 
bartered  a  trifle  at  Nantucket  and  Martha's  Vineyard, 
and  finally  anchored  triumphantly  in  Naumkeag  Bay, 
after  a  prosperous  voyage  of  six  weeks. 

The  Habingdons  were  received  with  a  kind,  brotherly 
hospitality  by  the  good  people  of  the  town,^.nd  Harold 
at  one  time  contemplated  pitching  his  tent  among 
them.  But  it  happened,  unluckily,  that  certain  pious, 
well-meaning  persons,  who  had  been  zealous  advocates 
for  toleration  in  the  mother  country,  had,  by  some 
strange  transition,  become  intolerant,  and  commenced 
the  old  story  of  persecution,  so  often  repeated  in  the 
Christian  world.  The  town  was  divided  into  parties, 
and  peace  was  no  longer  there. 

Still,  more  than  this,  it  was  about  this  time  that 


THE    PURITAN   AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  129 

the  extraordinary  panic  of  witchcraft  had  found  its 
way,  like  the  cholera,  from  the  Old  to  the  New  World. 
It  was  the  characteristic  superstition  of  the  age,  and 
by  no  means  peculiar  to  Naumkeag,  though  it  is  said 
to  have  first  broken  out  there  in  the  colonies.  Though 
without  any  foundation  in  nature,  science,  philosophy, 
or  reason,  this  baleful  superstition,  which  led  to  so 
many  atrocities  wherever  it  existed,  by  degrees  spread 
throughout  the  little  community,  and  was  not  only 
cherished,  but  fomented  by  men  of  liberal  •  education 
and  scientific  attainments.  A  fast  had  been  pro- 
claimed by  the  clergy,  with  special  reference  to  this 
visitation,  and  this  ill-advised  measure  in  some  degree 
served  to  give  the  stamp  of  reality  to  the  strange 
absurdities  and  extravagances  which  now  only  excite 
ridicule  among  the  enlightened,  and  wonder  among 
the  ignorant. 

But  however  one  age  may  plume  itself  on  its  free- 
dom from  superstitious  delusions  or  impostures,  there 
never  has  occurred,  and  probably  never  will  occur,  a 
period  in  which  mankind  has  been,  or  will  be,  free 
from  the  delusions  of  their  own  imagination,  or  the 
designing  impostures  of  others.  Every  age  has  its 
peculiar  follies  ;  and  philosophers  and  philanthropists, 
who  set  about  curing  them,  for  the  most  part  fare  like 
physicians  who,  in  driving  put  one  disease,  peradven- 
ture  lay  the  foundation  of  half-a-dozen  others.  Credu- 
lity is  a  monster  of  capacious  maw,  and,  like  the 
fabled  ogre,  delights  in  human  flesh.  If  the  miracles 
of  mesmerism,  which  come  abroad  under  the  mantle, 
6* 


130  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

of  science,  are  true,  necromancy  is  no  longer  a  fable  ; 
if  they  are  impostures,  as  doubtless  most  of  them  are, 
then  had  we  best  be  silent  on  the  delirium  of  witch- 
craft. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  the  community  of  Naumkeag  was, 
at  this  time,  beginning  to  feel  the  throes  of  that  ideal 
convulsion  which,  after  exhibiting  certain  premonitory 
symptoms,  gradually  seemed  to  die  away,  only  to  be 
felt  with  renewed  violence  a  few  years  afterwards.  It 
was,  as  before  stated,  the  prevailing  epidemic  of  the 
age  ;  it  raged  in  England  as  well  as  on  the  continent 
of  Europe  ;  and  an  old  writer  records  that,  on  return- 
ing from  Canada  to  his  native  province  of  Beam,  after 
an  absence  of  some  years,  he  found  three-fourths  of 
the  inhabitants  believing  or  affecting  to  believe  them- 
selves under  the  dominion  of  witchcraft. 

But  while  Harold  was  wavering  as  to  his  future 
course,  he  was  brought  to  a  speedy  decision  by  receiv- 
ing private  information  from  one  of  the  unbelievers, 
whom  he  had  made  his  banker,  that  a  little  child,  of 
some  six  or  eight  years  old,  who  had  exhibited  decided 
symptoms  of  being  bewitched,  had,  in  one  of  its 
paroxysms,  declared  she  saw  the  waiting-maid  of  the 
newly-arrived  strangers  sticking  pins  into  her.  This 
demonstration  upon  poor  Mildred  was  not  to  be  slighted 
at  such  a  time  ;  and  it  fortunately  happening  that, 
just  at  that  moment,  a  party,  consisting  of  a  few 
families,  was  on  the  eve  of  setting  out  to  form  a 
now  settlement,  on  a  "platform,"  quite  favorable  to 
Harold's  creed,  he  lost  no  time  in  associating  himself 


THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS    DAUGHTER.  131 

with  the  adventurers.  Hastily  adjusting  his  pecuniary 
affairs,  and  providing  himself  with  the  small  outfit 
which  could  be  conveyed  such  a  long  distance  through 
the  wild,  he  was  on  his  way  to  the  new  Medina  before 
the  evil  spirit  made  a  second  demonstration  against  poor 
old  Mildred,  who  happily  died  in  utter  ignorance  of 
having  come  nigh  passing  for  a  witch. 

The  suddenness  with  which  Harold  changed  his 
destination  from  one  place  to  another  at  a  great  dis- 
tance, may,  perhaps,  seem  extraordinary,  if  not  unna- 
tural ;  but  he  had  pulled  up  his  anchor  in  England, 
and  those  who  have  severed  the  ties  of  their  nativity 
never  take  such  deep  root  elsewhere.  The  emigrants 
to  America  had  a  world  before  them,  and.  we  may 
trace  much  not  only  of  the  past,  but  future  destinies 
of  our  country  to  that  roaming  and  adventurous  habit 
which  pricks  them  ever  onward  towards  the  region  of 
the  setting  sun.  This  propensity  is  one  of  the  great 
instruments  of  Providence  in  shaping  the  destinies  of 
a  people  such  as  the  world  never  saw  before. 

The  perils,  hardships,  and  privations  of  such  a 
pilgrimage  can  never  be  properly  realized  even  by  the 
present  race  of  emigrants  to  the  far  West.  At  that 
period,  the  savages  environed  them  on  every  side,  and 
they  had  no  protector  but  Providence,  and  their  own 
hands.  The  mother  country  paid  little  attention  to 
her  distant  children,  and  never  afforded  them  protec- 
tion till  they  were  able  to  protect  themselves ;  and 
their  own  governments  were  little  more  than  the 
united  energies  of  their  citizens,  spontaneously  tendered 


132  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

in  time  of  danger.  Those  who  went  forth  to  establish 
new  settlements  in  the  wilderness  were  not  only  their 
own  sword  and  shield,  but  their  own  legislators  ;  and 
such  adventures  required  a  degree  of  intelligence, 
intrepidity,  hardihood,  and  firmness  which,  if  at  this 
time  exhibited  on  the  great  stage  of  the  civilized 
world,  would  excite  admiration.  Their  sufferings, 
their  patience,  their  courage,  their  fortitude,  and  their 
faith  have  as  yet  scarcely  awakened  the  poet,  the 
painter,  or  the  historian  to  the  dignity  of  the  theme ; 
and,  instead  of  being  presented  for  the  contemplation 
of  their  posterity  as  objects  of  grateful  veneration, 
they  are  much  oftener  stigmatized  as  profligate  adven- 
turers, or  harsh  enthusiasts,  or  canting  hypocrites,  for 
having  rescued  a  world  from  barbarism,  made  the 
howling  wilderness  to  blossom  as  the  rose,  and  laid  the 
foundation  of  a  glorious  empire,  greater  by  one-half 
than  that  of  Rome,  when  called  mistress  of  the  world. 
The  party  of  emigrants  with  which  Harold  had 
associated  his  fortunes,  consisted  of  the  families  of 
men  of  respectable  birth,  education,  and  acquirements, 
who  had  left  England  from  conscientious  motives, 
rather  than  to  better  their  fortunes.  They  were  rigidly 
pious,  and  having  abandoned  their  native  country  for 
the  free  exercise  of  their  religious  opinions,  were  deter- 
mined to  enjoy  them  to  the  fullest  extent.  Some  dif- 
ferences among  their  preachers  on  points  which  at  this 
time  appear  frivolous,  but  which  were  then  deemed  of 
great  consequence,  had  divided  the  little  community 
into  factions,  only  the  more  inveterate  from  the  slight 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  133 

partition  that  separated  them.  A  small  party  from 
the  weaker  sect  had  in  consequence  determined  to  seek 
freedom  of  conscience,  or  perhaps,  the  right  of  dictat- 
ing to  others,  in  a  distant  portion  of  the  wilderness,  as 
yet  unoccupied  by  civilized  men. 

It  was  practicable  to  proceed  to  their  destination  by 
water,  and  such  had  been  their  original  design ;  but 
rumors  of  hostility  on  the  part  of  some  of  the  Indian 
tribes  on  Connecticut  River,  authenticated  by  the  mur- 
der of  the  captain  and  crew  of  a  coasting  vessel,  deter- 
red the  party  from  taking  that  route,  and  they  pursued 
their  journey  by  land,  by  a  path  hitherto  only  trod  by 
the  Indian  moccasin.  Each  family  had  a  covered  wag- 
gon, drawn  by  either  horses  or  oxen,  containing  some 
of  the  indispensable  conveniences  for  housekeeping 
and  farming,  together  with  a  supply  of  provisions. 
Attached  to  the  band  were  a  few  laborers,  or  servants, 
as  they  were  then  termed,  and  a  guide,  belonging  to 
the  Praying  Indians.  Thus  went  they  bravely  forth 
to  conquer  the  wilderness  and  extend  the  empire  of 
Christianity,  civilization,  and  liberty. 

It  is  not  within  the  purpose  of  our  story  to  enter 
into  the  particulars,  or  detail  the  daily  progress  of  the 
little  band,  groping  its  way  slowly  and  wearily  among 
the  giants  of  the  primeval  forests,  so  lonely,  sad,  and 
silent,  that  but  for  a  little  solitary  woodpecker,  or  a 
chirping  squirrel  by  day,  and  now  and  then  a  melan- 
choly howl  by  night,  it  would  have  seemed  a  lifeless 
world.  Neither  squirrel  nor  woodpecker  showed  any 
symptoms  of  fear;  sure  sign  they  had  never  before 


134  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

been  visited  by  man,  for  he  never  makes  the  rural 
train  his  friend.  Morning  and  evening  hymns  were 
sung  by  the  pilgrim  band  ;  and  now,  for  the  first  time, 
the  sacred  chaunt  ascended  to  Heaven  from  the  depths 
of  that  lonely  forest.  The  toilsome  day  was  not  fol- 
lowed by  quiet  repose ;  for  one  half  the  men  was 
always  on  the  watch  by  night,  and  even  weariness 
could  not  lull  the  apprehensions  of  the  other  to  refresh- 
ing sleep.  But  not  a  heart  sunk,  or  a  spirit  bowed, 
under  these  rough  trials ;  and  they  cut  their  way 
through  the  woods,  cheering  each  other  on  with  hope- 
ful anticipations.  Miriam  bore  it  like  a  heroine;  but 
her  mother  almost  sunk  under  fatigue  and  exposure, 
nor  did  she  ever  recover  from  their  effects,  which  were 
shortly  exhibited  in  the  progress  of  a  malady  that 
finally  brought  her,  after  all  her  wanderings,  to  her 
last  long  home. 

At  length  they  reached  the  banks  of  one  of  the  fair- 
est rivers  of  the  New  "World,  fed  by  a  hundred  wind- 
ing streams,  that  like  the  veins  of  the  human  body 
convey  the  life-giving  fluid  from  one  extremity  of  the 
frame  to  the  other.  Coasting  upwards  along  its  level 
alluvial  banks,  where  no  tangled  forests  impeded  their 
course,  they  at  length  arrived  at  the  foot  of  a  beauti- 
ful cascade,  as  yet  unspoiled  by  the  hand  of  that  busy 
meddler,  man ;  who,  in  this  age  of  progress,  wickedly 
sacrifices  all  the  beauties  of  nature,  and  banishes  all  the 
naiads  and  the  nymphs  from  their  wonted  haunts,  to 
make  way  for  that  monstrous  pagan  demon,  yclept  the 
water  power.  There  is  some  satisfaction  in  knowing 


THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS    DAUGHTER.  135 

that  at  least  one  half  these  sacrilegious  caitiffs,  who 
thus  outrage  the  divinity  of  nature,  are  punished  for 
their  impiety  even  in  this  world.  Sometimes  retribu- 
tion comes  in  the  shape  of  a  freshet,  that  sweeps  away 
all  his  "  improvements,"  as  the  rascal  calls  them,  into 
chaos  and  night.  The  insulted  river-god  rises  in  his 
wrath,  and  in  an  hour  avenges  the  atrocities  of  years. 
Sometimes  the  task  devolves  on  another  element,  and 
the  flames  perform  the  work  of  destruction ;  and  at 
others  political  economy  punishes  this  conspiracy 
against  the  rights  of  nature,  by  letting  loose  her  mys- 
terious jargon  of  supply  and  demand,  maximum  and 
minimum^  specific  and  ad-valorum  duties ;  and  last  of 
all,  the  avenging  spirit  is  let  slip  on  them  in  the  form 
of  a  new  tariff,  without  protecting  duties.  Thus 
are  the  ringleaders  of  this  crusade,  the  votaries  of  the 
demon  of  water  power,  punished  in  their  generation, 
besides  being  compelled  by  the  prickings  of  a  guilty 
conscience  to  join  a  temperance  society  and  perish  on 
water. 

Halting  at  this  romantic  spot,  one  smiling  evening 
of  the  merry  month  of  June,  within  a  day's  journey  of 
the  land  of  promise,  where  they  were  to  pitch  their 
tents,  they  prepared  for  their  simple  repast.  While 
the  kettle  was  boiling,  Miriam  strolled  a  few  hundred 
yards  below,  and  from  a  projecting  point,  contemplated 
the  wild,  beautiful  scene  spread  out  before  her  by  the 
bounteous  prodigality  of  nature.  The  little  caravan  had 
encamped  on  the  verge  of  a  vast  meadow,  extending  as 
far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  along  either  side  of  the 


136  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

river  below,  under  the  wide-spread  branches  of  a 
primeval  elm,  whose  stately  trunk,  and  deep  tenacious 
roots,  had  for  ages  resisted  the  periodical  floods,  that 
swept  away  all  else  beside,  and  spread  out  into  a  wide 
expanse  of  waters,  which  diffused  fertility  wherever 
they  flowed.  The  cattle  were  feeding,  or  reposing  in 
the  high  luxuriant  grass  ;  the  smoke  of  the  newly- 
lighted  fire  curled  upwards  gracefully ;  the  kettle 
began  to  simmer,  and  Goody  Mildred,  no  longer  in 
jeopardy  from  witchcraft,  assisted  by  others,  was  as 
busy  as  a  bee,  about  the  table,  which  it  is  said  was 
neither  mahogany  or  rosewood. 

All  else  was  the  silence  and  repose  of  nature  in  her 
primitive  nakedness,  save  nature's  lulling  music — the 
solemn  plunge  of  the  river,  falling  over  a  cliff  of  rocks 
in  all  the  forms  of  rich,  fantastic  grandeur — wild, 
savage,  and  majestic,  yet  still  beautiful.  Hurled 
headlong  by  the  impetus  of  its  fall,  it  rushed  over  an 
inclined  plane,  the  impatient  masses  pushing  forward 
in  a  quick  succession  of  circular  waves,  that  struck  by 
the  slanting  rays  of  the  setting  sun,  almost  blinded 
her  eyes  by  the  flashing  effulgence  of  their  splendors, 
and  the  swiftness  of  their  motion. 

While  gazing  on  this  Paradise  of  the  wilderness,  her 
mind  was  not  there.  Sometimes  it  wandered  towards 
the  sunny  South,  and  after  lingering  awhile,  returned 
to  dwell  upon  the  strange  vicissitudes  of  her  past  life. 
Here  she  stood,  alone  on  a  spot  never  before  trod  by 
the  footsteps  of  her  race.  She  was  in  a  new  world ; 
her  birth-place,  her  native  land,  were  far  away — so 


THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS    DAUGHTER.  137 

far,  that  England  seemed  more  remote  than  the  stars 
that  now  one  by  one  began  to  twinkle  sleepily,  and  at 
far  distances  above  her  head.  She  could  see  them 
though  distant  and  unapproachable  ;  but  her  country 
was  out  of  sight,  and  equally  beyond  her  reach.  She 
felt  she  should  never  see  it  more,  and  nevermore  is 
akin  to  eternity.  Yet  was  she  not  sorrowful.  There 
was  a  vastness  and  sublimity  in  this  boundless  soli- 
tude ;  a  grandeur  in  her  loneliness,  that  though 
awakening  neither  smiles  or  gladness,  touched  her 
soul  with  the  inspiration  of  poetic  .thought,  within 
whose  magic  sphere  nothing  is  reality,  and  even 
melancholy  is  happiness.  Her  eyes  grew  dim,  she 
knew  not  why ;  and  such  was  the  luxury  of  her  grate- 
ful tears,  that  like  the  summer  shower,  they  made 
every  object  seem  more  fresh  and  glowing.  She 
returned  to  partake  of  the  simple  fare,  to  join  in  the 
evening  hymn,  and  to  enjoy  the  sweet  repose  of  an 
unreproving  conscience.  The  next  day  they  reached 
their  destination,  and  prepared  themselves,  not  to  rest 
from  the  cares  of  life,  but  to  begin  the  world  anew. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

The  New  Home— Statistical  View  of  a  Young  Lady's  Heart— A  Con- 
versation— A  Loss  Never  to  be  Repaired — Two  Griefs  Better  than 
One — The  First  Grave  in  the  Church- Yard. 

THE  spot  chosen  by  our  Pilgrims  to  settle  down  upon, 
like  a  flock  of  vagrant  birds,  had  been  previously 
purchased  of  the  Indians,  for  we  don't  know  how  many 
fathoms  of  wampum,  an  aboriginal  currency  much 
preferable  to  paper  money,  because  it  was  the  product 
of  labor  and  skill.  It  could  not  be  made  for  nothing, 
out  of  nothing.  The  surrounding  scene  was  of  rare, 
surpassing  beauty.  A  vast  expanse  of  verdant  green- 
sward, level  as  a  floor,  and  smoothe  as  a  shaven  lawn, 
extended  up  and  down  for  many  miles,  entirely  free 
from  forest  or  tree,  save  here  and  there  a  stately  elm 
dotted  the  landscape.  No  woodman's  axe,  the  great 
weapon  of  the  sturdy  pioneer,  was  here  required  to 
prepare  the  ground  for  ploughing  ;  for  except  that  no 
fence  or  hedge  marked  the  division  of  property,  the 
fields  looked  as  if  they  had  been  cultivated  for  cen- 
turies. 

A  noble  river,  which  courses  the  country  a  thousand 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  139 

miles,  flowed  in  graceful  curves  and  silent  serenity 
through  the  vast  meadows,  its  course  marked  by  two 
rows  of  gigantic  trees,  some  of  whose  roots  were  laid 
bare  by  the  ravages  of  the  stream,  which  in  the  spring, 
when  the  snows  of  the  distant  mountains  melted, 
spread  a  wide  sea  of  waters  over  all  the  verdant  plain. 
Some  three  quarters  of  a  mile  from  the  river,  arose  a 
natural  terrace,  corresponding  to  its  windings,  about 
fifty  or  sixty  feet  high,  smoothe  as  art  could  have  made 
it,  and  sloping  gently  down  to  meet  the  level  below. 
From  the  summit  of  this  terrace  commenced  another 
plain  of  lesser  width,  and  not  so  smoothe  or  luxuriant 
of  grass,  which  extended  to  the  base  of  a  range  of  lofty 
wooded  hills,  that  bent  round  in  a  curve,  and  termi- 
nated towards  the  south,  in  a  peaked  mountain  tower- 
ing above  the  rest  of  the  chain.  To  the  north,  the 
view  was  similar,  but  far  more  extensive,  and  was  ter- 
minated by  the  conical  summit  of  the  grand  Monad- 
noc,  lifting  its  head  aloft  in  the  blue  distance  of  the 
skies.  No  where  could  be  seen  a  trace  of  the  footsteps 
or  the  hand  of  man ;  and  yet  the  landscape  wanted 
nothing  but  flocks,  and  herds,  and  piping  shepherds, 
to  recall  to  mind  those  scenes  of  the  golden  age,  over 
which  the  youthful  fancy  loves  to  linger,  and  which 
the  wicked  wise  ones  of  these  iron  times  call  a  fable 
or  a  dream.  All  around  was  peace,  repose  and  silence. 
Yet  there  lurked  in  the  recesses  of  the  surrounding 
wilderness  an  enemy  more  cunning,  fierce,  and  unre- 
lenting than  the  barbarians  that  sacked  the  mistress 
of  the  world.  Solitude  was  no  refuge  here  ;  silence 


140  THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS    DAUGHTER. 

was  not  peace  ;  and  the  repose  of  the  night  was  more 
harrassiug  than  the  toils  of  the  day.  But  the  troubles 
of  the  mind,  like  the  exertions  of  the  body,  dispose  to 
rest ;  and  they  soon  learned  to  sleep  soundly  in  the 
midst  of  unseen  dangers. 

With  the  exception  of  a  small  number  of  servants, 
the  head  of  each  of  these  families  had  sufficient  means 
to  purchase  all  the  essentials  of  comfort  and  conve- 
nience required  in  this  simple  stage  of  society ;  but 
the  distance  and  difficulties  of  transportation  for  a  con- 
siderable period  confined  them  to  what  was  indispens- 
able. Harold  was  the  richest  of  them  all,  and  had  in 
the  hands  of  his  agent  at  Naumkeag  a  sum  that  made 
him  wealthy,  compared  to  his  fellow  adventurers.  In 
the  course  of  that  brief  period  which  changes,  as  if  by 
magic,  the  face  of  all  things  in  this  New  "World,  they 
were  comfortably  settled,  and  becoming  gradually 
familiarized  to  the  sense  of  home.  The  rich  alluvial 
meadows  became  animated  with  lowing  herds,  and  the 
verdant  hills  by  flocks  of  sheep ;  the  tolling  bell  was 
heard  for  the  first  time  from  the  humble  spire  of  the 
rustic  church ;  the  echoes  of  the  hills  repeated  the  song 
of  thanksgiving ;  and  under  the  protecting  branches  of 
a  spreading  elm  stood  a  little  log  cabin,  from  which  on 
week  days  might  be  heard  the  sound  of  many  voices, 
repeating  lessons  in  most  harmonious  discord.  Though 
the  Puritans  denounced  the  doctrine  of  good  works, 
there  were  at  least  two  which  they  never  failed  to  per- 
form. They  laid  a  foundation  for  religion  and  know- 
ledge, by  building  churches  and  schoolhouses.  They  had 


THE    PURITAN   AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  141 

not  adopted  that  pernicious  dogma  which  makes  know- 
ledge the  great  if  not  the  sole  basis  of  morals ;  nor  had 
they  lost  sight  of  the  melancholy  truth  which  the  expe- 
rience of  every  day  is  verifying,  that  unless  morals  keep 
pace  with  intelligence,  the  latter,  so  far  from  being  the 
handmaid  of  virtue,  only  makes  the  possessor  more 
dextrous  in  fraud,  and  increases  his  powers  of  mischief. 
Ignorance  is  far  preferable  to  error :  the  former  is  a 
passive,  the  latter  an  active  instrument  of  evil.  One 
is  the  player,  the  other  the  instrument  played  upon. 

In  ancient  times,  and  in  the  Old  "World,  when 
adventurers  went  forth  to  plant  new  colonies,  it  was 
under  military  leaders,  and  the  sword  was  the  great 
instrument  for  clearing  the  wilderness.  But  our  little 
pilgrim  band  was  led  by  a  minister  of  peace,  to  whom 
all  looked  up  with  respectful  veneration,  and  his  advice 
was  little  less  than  law.  And  truly,  the  shepherd  who 
thus  led  his  flock  into  the  wilderness  merited  all  their 
affection  and  confidence.  He  was  zealous  without 
bigotry ;  loved  his  own  faith  without  hating  that  of 
others ;  and  set  an  example  of  all  that  his  precepts 
enforced.  He  preached  the  doctrine  of  love,  not  that 
of  fear ;  and  preferred  to  lure  his  flock  to  the  fold  by 
the  hope  of  eternal  bliss,  rather  than  the  fear  of  eternal 
punishment.  He  was  their  law  and  their  gospel. 

To  an  American — and  for  such  alone  we  write — 
nothing  can  be  more  interesting  than  the  growth  of  a 
new  settlement  in  the  wilderness.  It  is  a  complete 
exemplification  of  the  progress  of  society,  a  theme  that 
hitherto  has  been  more  the  theory  of  philosophical 


142  THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS    DAUGHTER. 

abstractions  than  the  result  of  actual  experience.  In 
its  first  institution,  a  community  is  governed  by  public 
opinion  which,  is  powerful  in  proportion  to  the  small- 
ness  of  the  circle  in  which  it  operates ;  and  the 
great  inquest  of  society  is  the  expounder,  as  well  as 
enforcer,  of  the  law.  Where  ail  are  intimately  asso- 
ciated, the  good  or  ill  opinion  of  every  one  is  essential, 
because  its  consequences  are  directly  felt ;  and  no 
man,  unless  so  debased  as  to  have  lost  the  sense  of 
shame,  can  exist  amid  the  contempt  of  all  around  him. 
The  atmosphere  being  confined,  is  poisoned  by  a  single 
breath ;  and  where  all  live  together,  and  all  partake 
in  one  common  interest,  the  object  of  general  contempt 
or  abhorrence  is  under  sentence  of  banishment,  as 
surely  as  was  the  ancient  Roman  when  prohibited  the 
use  of  fire  and  water. 

The  swarms  that  from  time  to  time  issued  from  the 
parent  hives  were  also  invariably  subjected  to  immi- 
nent dangers  from  the  savages,  who,  like  the  wild 
beasts  of  the  forest,  lurked  everywhere.  Hence  sprung 
another  substitute  for  laws — the  tie  of  common  danger ; 
which,  united  with  a  common  interest  in  the  prosperity 
of  all,  formed  as  strong  a  bond  of  union,  and  as  im- 
pressive an  obligation  of  restraint,  as  either  laws  or 
constitutions  could  devise.  Every  man  felt  that  his 
own  safety  depended  on  those  immediately  around 
him,  and  of  consequence,  that  it  was  equally  his  inte- 
rest as  his  duty  to  assist  in  defending  them.  There 
was  no  necessity  for  laws  or  precepts  to  teach  him  his 
obligations  to  society.  The  law  of  nature,  the  first 


THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS    DAUGHTER.  143 

impulses  of  reason  taught  him  this.  When  the  Creator 
of  the  universe  gave  to  man  the  privilege  of  free  will, 
in  the  government  of  his  own  actions,  he  laid  down 
certain  immutable  principles,  or  laws  of  nature,  by 
which  that  free  will  is  in  some  measure  restrained; 
and  gave  him  the  faculty  of  reason  to  comprehend 
those  laws  so  far  as  they  are  necessary  to  the  conduct 
of  human  actions :  such  among  others  are  the  obligations 
that  we  should  live  honestly,  hurt  no  one,  and  render 
to  all  their  due.  No  civil  laws  are,  or  ought  to  be 
obligatory,  that  come  in  conflict  with  the  law  of  nature, 
implanted  in  the  heart  of  every  rational  being  by  the 
impulses  of  Infinite  Wisdom.  It  is  to  this  we  trace  that 
otherwise  inexplicable  paradox,  the  voluntary  submis- 
sion of  man  to  laws  of  his  own  making. 

All  this  and  more  was  exemplified  in  the  little 
community  whose  progress  we  are  sketching.  Far 
out  of  the  reach  of  the  parent  hive,  they,  like  the  new 
swarm  of  bees,  carried  with  them  the  instincts  of 
nature  and  the  habits  of  social  life.  There  was,  for 
years,  no  power  on  earth  to  coerce  them  from  abroad  ; 
and,  though  they  appointed  magistrates  and  adopted 
laws,  their  submission  was  voluntary,  since  there  was 
no  authority  to  enforce  the  decrees  of  one,  or  execute 
the  precepts  of  the  others.  There  were  few  crimes 
among  them,  and  these  were,  for  a  time,  only  punished 
by  the  community.  If  a  man  committed  a  wrong  to 
his  neighbor,  or  defrauded  him  in  any  way,  he  was,  to 
use  a  phrase  common  in  such  cases,  "  hunted  out  of 
the  community."  Whenever  he  came  into  the  pre- 


144  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

sence  of  his  companions,  he  was  received  with  scorn  , 
and,  if  he  dared  to  resent  it,  all  united  against  him, 
so  that  it  never  failed  that  the  delinquent  soon  found 
it  necessary  to  seek  a  home  where  his  offence  was 
unknown.  Slander  was  kept  in  awe  and  punished, 
by  all  uniting  in  proclaiming  that  the  delinquent  was 
unworthy  of  belief,  on  any  occasion  whatever.  Thus, 
if  they  happened  to  speak  the  truth,  no  one  would 
believe  them  ;  and,  though  there  were  no  courts  for  a 
time  to  punish  them,  by  awarding  damages,  they 
underwent  one  of  the  severest  of  punishments — univer- 
sal avoidance  and  contempt.  In  short,  it  seldom  hap- 
pened that  they  were  not  "hated  out,"  and  obliged  to  go 
where  they  were  not  known.  Thus  it  would  seem  pos- 
sible for  a  well-disposed  community  to  exist,  at  least 
for  a  time,  without  being  burdened  by  a  multiplicity 
of  laws,  at  least  one-half  of  which  operate  as  peevish 
restraints,  without  conducing  either  to  the  morals  or 
peace  of  society.  But  it  is  high  time  to  individual- 
ize, and  return  to  the  principal  persons  of  our  tale. 

To  be  alone  in  the  world,  is  not  to  be  out  of  the 
reach  of  its  calamities.  They  track  the  footsteps  of 
man  even  through  the  illimitable  wilds  ;  they  require 
no  "  blazing"  of  the  trees,  no  compass,  or  north  star 
to  direct  their  chase  after  the  invisible  fugitive,"  but 
scent  him  like  bloodhounds,  and  ran  him  down  at  last. 
Happiness  is  everywhere,  or  nowhere  ;  and  to  pursue 
it  from  one  place  to  another  is  to  chase  a  shadow. 
The  fatigues  and  privations  of  a  tedious  voyage,  fol- 
lowed by  the  exposures  of  a  long  journey  through  tho 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  145 

wilderness,  had  made  deep  inroads  on  the  constitution 
of  Susan  Habingdon,  which  now  began  to  exhibit 
alarming  symptoms  of  decay.  Schooled  in  the  painful 
vicissitudes  of  life,  she  never  complained,  but  bore  her 
increasing  infirmities  with  quiet  acquiescence,  as  the 
invisible  enemy  worked  his  sure  progress,  and  under- 
mined the  frail  citadel  of  life.  So  almost  imperceptible 
was  his  approach,  that  those  who  lived  under  the  same 
roof,  and  saw  her  continually,  were  not  aware  of  it, 
though  the  neighbors  had,  long  ago,  predicted  that  her 
days  were  numbered,  and  her  pilgrimage  near  its  end. 
But  Harold,  as  yet,  saw  it  not ;  he  was  daily  becom- 
ing more  intensely  devout ;  the  sentiment  of  devotion 
seemed  gradually  to  absorb  all  others,  and  deaden  the 
feelings  of  nature  in  his  heart.  He  became,  in  a  great 
measure,  abstracted  from  worldly  affairs  ;  passed  much 
of  his  time  alone,  indulging  in  long  fits  of  gloom, 
during  which  he  seemed  more  under  the  dominion  of 
imagination  than  reality,  and  his  naturally  poetical 
temperament  displayed  itself  in  occasional  flights  of 
lofty  eloquence.  Miriam,  too,  cherished  a  master 
feeling,  which,  if  it  did  not  monopolize,  was  perpetually 
intruding  on  her  mind ;  and,  though  sometimes  a 
sudden  pang  would  thrill  through  her  bosom,  as  she 
fancied  her  mother  looked  ill,  she  continued  unheeding 
of  the  fatal  crisis  now  close  at  hand. 

Such  was  the  state  of  things,  when,  one  day,  as 
Miriam  was  sitting  at  her  spinning-wheel,  not  turning 
it  indeed  at  the  moment,  but  thinking  of  one  far  away, 
her  mother,  who  was  reclining  languidly  in  an  easy- 

VOL,.  n.          7 


146  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

chair,  of  most  homely  fashion,  now  almost  her  only 
resting-place  during  the  day,  addressed  her  in  a  lan- 
guid voice,  accompanied  by  a  still  more  languid 
smile — 

"  Who  art  thou  thinking  of,  Miriam  ?"  said  she. 

Miriam  started  from  her  reverie,  but  promptly  re- 
plied— 

"  I  was  thinking  of  Langley,  mother." 

"What  wert  thou  thinking  about  him,  my  child? 
Thou  knowest  it  is  all  in  vain." 

"  I  know  it,  mother ;  yet  still  it  is  a  pleasure  to 
think  of  him.  I  wonder  if  he  ever  thinks  of  me  ?  I 
should  like  to  know.  But  why  should  I  doubt  ?  He 
promised  me  he  would,  and  he  never  breaks  his  word." 

"  Ah  !  my  poor  Miriam,  years  have  passed  since  we 
parted  from  him,  and,  in  that  time,  many  forget  and 
many  are  forgotten.  Think  of  the  changes  of  this 
world,  at  every  passing  moment — how  many  come 
into,  how  many  go  out  of  it,  at  every  ticking  of 
the  clock." 

"  True,  dear  mother — but  still  we  may  think  of 
absent  friends,  and  like  the  magicians  of  old,  conjure 
up  their  images,  though  far  away." 

"  Miriam  !  Miriam  !  You  are  wasting  your  heart 
on  ideal  nothings.  On  that  which  has  no  existence." 

"  Mother !  dear  mother !  what  dost  thou,  what 
canst  thou  mean  ?" 

"  It  must  be  known,"  said  Susan,  as  if  communing 
with  herself.  "And  better  it  should  come  from  the 
lips  of  a  mother  than  those  of  a  stranger.  Miriam 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  147 

canst  thou  bear  to  hear  what  I  can  scarcely  bear  to 
tell  ?" 

"  Tell — tell — tell  me  mother  quickly.  Anything 
is  better  than  what  I  feel  this  moment.  0  tell  me — 
has  anything  befallen  Langley  ?" 

"  There  is  bad  news  for  thee,  Miriam — at  least  thou 
wilt  think  it  so.  Be  calm,  my  love.  There  is  news  of 
Langley  Tyringham — bad  news." 

"  Is  he  dead  ?"  gasped  Miriam. 

"  Listen,  and  be  calm,  as  becomes  one  who  belong- 
est  to  a  race  whose  appointed  vocation  is  to  endure 
many  losses,  many  sorrows.  Our  neighbor  "Westport 
has  returned  from  Boston  and  informed  thy  father, 
that  a  vessel  passing  up  the  Sound  picked  up  a  dead 
body,  in  whose  pocket-book  were  found  letters  to  the 
Governor  and  other  persons  in  Boston.  These  letters 
were  from  the  Governor  of  Virginia,  and  others  of  the 
colony." 

"  The  name — the  name — mother.  But  I  know  it 
well.  It  was  Langley  Tyringham,"  interrupted 
Miriam,  with  almost  phrenzied  earnestness. 

"  It  was  indeed,  my  daughter.  Besides  this,  a  hat 
was  picked  up  on  the  beach  in  which  his  name  was 
written  at  full  length.  Lean  on  me,  Miriam — thou 
art  fainting,  and  remember  that  to  hope  humbly,  and 
bear  patiently,  are  among  the  brightest  virtues  of 
woman." 

But  Miriam  was  not  fainting  though  white  as  snow, 
and  almost  as  cold.  Nor  did  she  weep,  or  wring  her 
hands,  but  remained  silent  a  few  minutes.  At  length 


148  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

she  drew  a  deep  shuddering  sigh,  and  calmly  said  to 
her  mother — 

"Well,  be  it  so.  He  is  no  farther  from  me  in 
Heaven  than  he  was  on  earth.  I  shall  meet  him 
there,  but  I  could  never  meet  him  here.  But  mother — 
dear  mother — how  ill  thou  lookest.  Surely  thou  art 
not  well — I  never  saw  thee  thus  before." 

"  I   have  exerted  myself  too   much,    and  felt   too 
much.     But  now  we  are  talking  of  death,  let  me  say 
something  of  myself,  for  death  and  I  will  soon  be  one." 
"  Mother !  dear  mother  !" 

"  Yes,  daughter,  it  is  time  thou  wert  prepared — 
alas  !  must  I  inflict  another  blow  !  To  me  the  cares 
and  sorrows  of  this  world  appear  as  nothing — rny 
vision  is  of  another.  But  I  wish  I  could  have  been 
spared  this  painful  communication.  I  hoped  either 
Harold  or  thou  wouldst  have  observed  the  change  I 
see  and  feel  myself.  But  he  is  otherwise  occupied, 
and  thou — poor  Miriam — thou  hast  had  other  thoughts 
to  occupy  thee.  But  it  must  be  delayed  no  longer.  It 
is  time  thou  shouldst  know  that  I  am  not  long  for 
this  world.  Death  has  been  a  long  time  approaching 
slowly,  but  the  nearer  he. comes  the  quicker  his  pace. 
A  few  weeks,  a  few  days — nay,  perhaps  a  few  hours, 
and  thou  wilt  be  without,  a  mother." 

This  second  blow,  for  a  while  banished  the  remem- 
brance of  the  first.  Miriam  no  longer  thought  of 
Langley  Tyringham.  Another  a^id_a--hQligr_JJaeling 
(^ceupied  her  heart.  She  gazed  intensely^  on  the  face 
of  her  mother,  and  struck  for  the  first  time  with  that 


THE    PURITAN    AM)    HIS    DAUGHTER.  149 

indescribable  expression,  which  indicates  approaching 
dissolution,  cast  herself  on  her  knees  before  her, 
exclaiming  in  the  bitterness  of  self-reproach — 

"  Forgive — 0  !  forgive  me,  dear  mother  !  My  own 
selfish  thoughts  have  made  me  blind  to  what  I  now  see 
too  plainly." 

"  I  have  nothing  to  forgive,  Miriam,  and  rejoice  that 
thou  hast  been  spared  many  hours  of  painful  anticipa- 
tion of  what  all  thy  cares  could  not  avert.  And  now, 
as  this  may  be  the  last  time  I  shall  have  breath  to 
commune  with  thee,  let  me  here  bear  testimony  to  thy 
dutiful  and  loving  conduct  during  all  thy  past  life. 
Thou  hast  been  to  thy  parents  a  never-failing  source 
of  comfort ;  their  solace  in  exile,  and  amid  all  the 
strange  vicissitudes  of  their  weary  pilgrimage  ;  and 
be  this  thy  best  consolation  when  I  am  gone,  that 
thou  hast  fulfilled  all  thy  filial  duties,  and  that  the 
dead  cannot  reproach  thee.  "When  thou  recallest  me, 
as  thou  wilt  do  sometimes,  I  know  it  will  not  be  with 
a  feeling  of  regret  or  remorse  for  remembered  wilful- 
ness,  or  disobedience,  but  with  a  pleasing  melancholy, 
arising  from  the  assurance  I  now  give  thee,  that  thou 
hast  never  drawn  a  tear  from  my  eyes,  save  of  joy  or 
affection,  nor  a  sigh  from  my  heart,  but  of  anxiety  for 
thy  welfare.  Go,  now  my  child,  and  commune  with 
thine  own  soul  awhile,  for  there  is  no  comforter  like 
an  approving  conscience." 

Miriam  retired  into  solitude  in  obedience  to  her 
mother,  with  a  heart  rent  by  conflicting  emotions. 
But  two  griefs  are  better  than  one,  since  by  alternately 


150  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

taking  place  of  each  other,  they  prevent  the  mind  from 
fastening  on  either,  with  that  intense,  unchangeable 
tenacity,  which,  if  long  continued,  causes  a  total  wreck 
of  either  body  or  mind.  Such  was  the  case  with 
Miriam,  who,  in  the  deep  solicitude  and  overwhelming 
apprehensions  connected  with  the  state  of  her  mother, 
found  a  temporary  refuge  from  the  bitterness  of  that 
besetting  sorrow  with  which  the  death  of  Langley  was 
destined  to  render  her  familiar  hereafter.  Susan 
Habingdon  died  about  ten  days  after  this  conversation, 
as  it  may  be  supposed  such  a  woman  would  die  ;  not 
shouting  delirious  hallelujahs  of  triumph,  in  frantic 
enthusiasm,  or  shrinking  with  fearful  forebodings  from 
the  dread  hereafter,  but  with  the  sweet,  calm  resigna- 
tion of  a  pious  soul — hoping,  yet  hoping  humbly.  Hers 
was  the  first  grave  in  the  little  church-yard  ;  and  the 
only  monument  erected  to  her  memory  was  in  the 
hearts  of  her  husband,  her  child,  and  her  neighbors. 
She  lay  alone  for  awhile,  but  in  process  of  time,  her 
grave  became  surrounded  by  many  little  mounds,  and 
at  this  time  their  numbers  almost  equal  those  of  the 
descendants  of  the  little  band  of  Pilgrims,  that  live 
and  move  around  them. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

A  Sage  Observation — Change  in  the  Habits  and  Character  of  the  Round- 
head— Harold  Questions  his  Daughter  on  a  Very  Delicate  Subject — 
Arrival  of  a  Welcome  Visitor — A  Walk  to  the  Summit  of  a  Moun- 
tain—And What  They  Saw  there— The  Judge  of  a  King. 

CALAMITY  never  leaves  us  where  it  finds  us.  It 
either  softens  or  hardens  the  heart.  "With  some,  the 
wounded  spirit  subsides  into  cold  insensibility,  and 
every  blow  serves  only  to  harden  it  into  stern  resist- ' 
ance,  accompanied  by  a  disregard  to  the  sufferings  of 
others ;  with  some,  it  finds  its  best  solace  for  the  loss 
of  the  dead  in  administering  to  the  happiness  of  the 
living.  There  are  those  who,  smarting  under  the  recol- 
lection of  the  loss  of  some  beloved  being,  retire,  as  it 
were,  within  themselves,  and  shrink  from  forming  new 
*ies,  lest  they  should  be  again  severed  by  the  angel  of 
eath,  who  seems  to  shoot  his  arrows  at  random,  care- 
*ess  whose  heart  he  splits  asunder ;  and  there  are 
others,  who  only  cling  more  closely  to  what  is  left, 
from  attachment  to  what  is  gone  forever. 

Harold  Habingdon  belonged  to  this  latter  class ;  and 
from  the  period  of  Susan's  death,  seemed  to  concen- 
trate his  worldly  thoughts  and  affections  on  his  daugh- 


152  THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS    DAUGHTER. 

ter.  No  longer  the  stern,  unbending  father,  sacrificing 
everything  to  what  he  called  his  principles,  he  became 
the  tender,  affectionate  guardian,  the  confidential 
friend.  "When,  after  months  had  passed  away,  he  saw 
little  if  any  mitigation  in  the  calm,  settled  melancholy 
of  Miriam,  and  sometimes  observed  traces  of  those 
secret  tears  that  always  come  from  the  heart ;  when 
he  marked  her  struggles  to  be  cheerful  only  followed 
by  increasing  paleness  and  dejection  he  became  con- 
vinced there  was  a  deeper  cause  at  work  than  grief  for 
the  death  of  her  mother.  He,  too,  had  learned  the 
melancholy  fate  of  Langley;  and  now  that  death  had 
placed  the  barrier  of  the  grave  between  him  and  his 
daughter,  his  heart  softened  towards  him,  and  he 
sometimes  caught  himself  regretting  that  he  had  so 
sternly  opposed  a  union  that  might  at  the  same  time 
have  secured  her  happiness,  and  brought  her  a  pro- 
tector when  her  father  was  no  more.  He  thought  that, 
perhaps,  instead  of  becoming  a  convert  to  his  faith, 
Miriam  might  gradually  have  brought  him  to  adopt 
her  own.  But  it  was  now  too  late,  and  the  very  im- 
possibility of  the  marriage  ever  taking  place  increased 
his  regrets  for  his  past  opposition.  Had  Langley  been 
living,  and  at  hand,  it  is  probable  his  former  dislike 
might  have  continued,  and  increased  ;  but  being  now 
forever  removed  beyond  the  possibility  of  giving  offence, 
Harold  sincerely  desired  an  opportunity  of  making 
atonement  by  sanctioning  what  he  had  so  sternly 
opposed.  Mankind  are  never  so  anxious  to  make 
amends  for  injury  or  unkindness,  as  when  the  time  for 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  153 

doing  so  is  past  forever.  They  can  forgive  the  dead, 
but  not  the  living.  Influenced  by  these  new-born  feel- 
ings, he  one  day  questioned  Miriam  on  the  subject  of 
her  continued  depression 

"  I  do  not  wish,"  said  he,  "  to  prevent  your  weeping 
over  the  loss  of  what  can  never  be  restored  either  to 
you  or  to  me — a  faithful  wife,  and  tender  mother.  But 
sorrow,  like  joy,  should  have  its  limits ;  and  if  time 
did  not  cure,  or  at  least  alleviate  our  griefs  for  the  loss 
of  those  we  love,  the  world  would  be  clothed  in  per- 
petual mourning  and  sadness.  I  do  not  wish  to  pre- 
vent your  indulging  your  sorrow,  since  it  is  not  for  us 
to  expect  to  pass  through  this  vale  of  tears,  without 
adding  our  tribute  to  the  waters  of  bitterness.  Hap- 
piness, my  daughter,  soons  becomes  tired  of  the  same 
companion,  and  seeks  new  associates.  We  may  have 
happy  days,  but  not  happy  lives.  If  thy  mother  is 
permitted  to  look  down  upon  us,  she  will  grieve  to  see 
thee  unhappy  so  long." 

"Father,"  said  Miriam,  with  her  usual  frank  sim- 
plicity, "  I  have  other  cause  of  grief  than  the  loss  of 
my  dear  mother.  There  is  another  grave  for  me  to 
weep  over." 

"  I  understand  thee,  Miriam  ;  and  if  it  can  be  any 
consolation  to  thee  to  know  it,  I  declare  that  were 
poor  Langley  Tyringham  alive,  I  would  now  trust 
your  faith  and  your  happiness  to  his  keeping ;  for 
Heaven  only  knows  how  long  it  may  be  before  you 
require  a  protector  in  this  wild  region." 

"  Dear  father !"  cried  Miriam,  with  tears  of  grati- 


154  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

tude,  "  you  have  taken  a  load  from  my  heart.  "What 
though  I  can  never  be  his,  that  I  shall  see  him  no 
more,  it  is  a  sweet  consolation  for  me  to  know  that 
my  father  at  last  thinks  of  him  with  kindness,  and 
would  accept  him  as  a  son.  I  shall  be  happier  now, 
for  I  can  think  of  him  without  offending  you." 

As  she  said  this  her  face  brightened,  her  deep  pen- 
sive eye  sparkled  as  if  with  a  flash  of  newly-awakened 
hope,  and  a  long  absent  stranger  appeared  in  the  like- 
ness of  a  flush  on  her  cheeks.  From  that  time  her 
depression  gradually  subsided  into  something  like 
patient  cheerfulness,  and  she  went  about  her  household 
duties  with  new  vivacity. 

The  stern  winter  of  that  northern  region  had  now 
passed  away,  and  the  joyous  spring,  which  had  only 
awaited  the  melting  of  the  snow,  now  leaped  forth  as 
if  full  grown  from  under  the  shelter  of  her  frozen 
canopy.  The  sweet  south  wind,  the  most  balmy 
breath  of  nature,  gently  curled  the  surface  of  the  glad 
river,  now  released  from  its  icy  fetters,  and  murmur- 
ing as  if  enjoying  its  newly-acquired  freedom ;  the 
fresh  meadows  put  forth  their  brightest  verdure  ;  and 
now  and  then  a  chirping  bird,  just  returned  from  its 
southern  tour,  chaunted  his  joyous  song  among  the 
buds  and  expanding  leaves,  whose  foliage  seemed  as 
soft  and  fleecy  as  the  reflection  of  the  woods  in  the 
bosom  of  some  glassy  lake. 

Miriam,  one  afternoon,  pointed  out  these  newly- 
arrived  strangers  to  her  father,  and  proposed  a  walk  to 
the  high-peaked  mountain,  heretofore  noted,  which 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  155 

rose  gently  from  the  river  until  it  suddenly  changed 
its  aspect,  and  shot  like  a  pyramid  into  the  skies.  It 
was  not  difficult  of  ascent  in  one  part,  and  was  now 
free  from  snow.  Harold  gladly  assented,  and  the 
mountain  being  nigh  at  hand,  they  reached  the  sum- 
mit in  time  to  see  the  setting  sun  in  all  his  glory, 
giving  his  evening  farewell  to  a  world  which  lay 
beneath  their  view  in  all  directions.  It  was  a  scene 
of  most  enchanting  beauty  and  sublimity.  The  river 
gracefully  winding,  and  turning,  and  lingering  with 
sweet  delay  among  the  broad  meadows ;  the  vast 
expanse  of  waving  woods,  undulating  hills,  and  tower- 
ing mountains  peering  among  the  blue  skies,  as  blue 
as  them,  and  almost  as  transparent ;  the  sublime  dis- 
tance of  the  horizon,  and  the  endless  variety  of  objects 
spread  out  before  them,  all  formed  a  scene  that  ele- 
vated the  soul  to  the  loftiest  conceptions  of  infinite 
power  and  infinite  wisdom.  Both  for  a  while  paid  it 
the  homage  of  silence.  At  length  Miriam  exclaimed — 

"  What  a  beautiful  world  !  and  what  a  pity  it  can- 
not last  for  ever." 

"True,"  answered  the  father — "all  that  we  see 
around  ;  all  that  is,  and  all  that  shall  ever  be,  is  des- 
tined to  perish,  how  soon  no  one  knows,  no  prophet 
can  predict.  But  the  time  will  surely  come,  when 
this  earth  shall  crumble  into  a  heap  of  smoking  ashes  ; 
the  sea  exhale  in  scalding  steam ;  and  the  sun  con- 
sume in  his  own  fires.  Of  all  created  things,  animate 
and  inanimate,  visible  and  invisible,  in  this  vast  uncir- 


156  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

cumscribed  universe,  there  is  nothing  immortal  but  the 
soul  of  man." 

"  Thou  sayest  truly,  Harold  Habingdon,"  answered 
a  strange  voice,  as  he  ended  this  burst  of  pious  enthu- 
siasm; and  turning  round,  he  beheld  an  aged  man 
with  white  hair  and  beard,  leaning  on  his  staff. 

"  You  seem  to  know  me,  my  friend,"  said  Harold, 
"  but  I  cannot  recollect  ever  seeing  you  before." 

"  That  I  do  not  wonder  at,"  answered  the  old  man — 
"  for  since  you  saw  me,  I  have  been  hunted  like 
a  wild  beast  from  my  lair  in  the  Old  World  only 
to  be  hunted  in  the  New.  I  have  lived  in  forests 
and  in  caves ;  above  ground,  and  under  ground ;  and 
for  years  past  have  not  dared  to  enjoy  the  light  of  day, 
save  when  I  sometimes  crawl  forth  like  a  fox  from  his 
hole,  to  breathe  the  pure  air  of  this  mountain,  and 
contemplate  a  world  that  has  forsaken  me." 

Miriam  was  awed  by  the  looks  and  words  of  the 
white-haired  old .  man,  and  Harold  now  felt  a  strange 
conviction  that  he  had  seen  him  before.  Again  he 
asked  who  he  was. 

"  One  of  the  judges  of  kings,"  answered  he  proudly. 

"  Hah  ! — I  know  you  now,  though  it  is  long  since 
we  met.  You  are — " 

"  Hush !"  said  the  old  man — "  breathe  not  my 
name,  even  in  the  solitudes  of  nature,  least  the  very 
echoes  should  betray  me.  You  know  me,  that  is 
enough." 

"  Yes — though  you  are  greatly  changed  since  I  last 
saw  you  on  Marston  Moor." 


THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS    DAUGHTER.  157 

"  True — years  have  done  much,  and  hardships 
more.  I  need  not  tell  my  story,  for  you  have  mixed 
in  the  world,  and  know  it  all.  If  not,  I  will  one  day 
tell  you,  that  you  may  learn  how  surely  it  is  the  des- 
tiny of  man  to  be  a  slave.  Jf  he  does  not  carry  the 
yoke  on  his  neck,  he  will  wear  the  ring  in  his  nose ;  if 
not  driven,  he  will  be  led  ;  and  if  he  casts  off  the  chains 
of  one  tyrant,  it  is  only  to  put  on  those  of  another. 
Wretched  were  they  who  toil  and  shed  their  blood,  to 
emancipate  their  fellow-creatures,  had  they  not  within 
them  an  approving  conscience,  which  is  its  own 
reward.  I  sat  in  judgment  on  a  king,  who  was 
guilty  of  treason  against  his  people ;  who  conspired 
against  their  rights  ;  who  made  war  on  them  in  sup- 
port of  his  unlawful  pretensions,  and  caused  England 
to  smoke  with  the  blood  of  her  children.  In  my  inmost 
soul,  I  believed  him  worthy  of  death ;  and  I  thought 
that  such  a  high  example  of  justice  might  serve  as  a 
warning  to  those  who  profanely  call  themselves  the 
vicegerents  of  Heaven,  by  showing  them  there  was  an 
earthly  tribunal  to  which  they  were  amenable — that 
the  justice  of  man  might  overtake  them  even  in  this 
world." 

"  Yet  he  is  called  a  martyr,"  said  Harold. 

"  Martyr  to  what  ?"  cried  the  old  man  vehemently. 
"  Was  he  a  martyr  to  his  religion  when  leaguing  with 
the  Irish  Papists  against  the  Church  he  had  sworn  to 
protect  ?  Was  he  a  martyr  to  liberty  when  he  raised 
his  standard  against  those  who  were  striving  to  secure 
it  to  the  people  ?  Or  was  he  a  martyr  to  his  country 


158  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

when  he  pointed  his  sword  at  her  bosom  and  stabbed 
her  to  the  heart  ?" 

"  /said  not  he  was  a  martyr,  rny  friend,"  resumed 
Harold  ;  "for  though  he  may  not  have  suffered  accord- 
ing to  the  forms  of  law,  I  think  he  suffered  justly.  I 
am  not  one  of  those  who  hold  that  Icings  are  the  vice- 
gerents of  Heaven,  and  govern  by  divine  right.  Nor, 
if  they  did,  do  I  believe  that  G-od  delegates  any  power 
to  kings,  but  that  of  doing  good,  since  he  does  not 
possess  the  power  himself  of  doing  evil,  and  therefore 
cannot  confer  it  on  others." 

"  Assuredly  you  are  right,"  replied  the  old  man ; 
"  and  what  if  there  be  no  legal  tribunal  established, 
to  punish  the  crimes  of  kings  ?  Shall  they,  therefore, 
be  permitted  to  abuse  their  power  and  oppress  the  peo- 
ple without  punishment ;  and  must  they  wait  patiently 
till  the  hand  of  Heaven  interposes,  and  puts  a  period  to 
their  mortal  existence,  by  course  of  nature  ?  No, 
Harold  Habingdon,  the  just  vengeance  of  an  injured 
people  is  as  much  an  instrument  of  the  Most  High, 
for  His  great  purposes,  as  plague,  pestilence,  and 
famine,  the  tempest  and  the  earthquake.  Such  was 
my  creed.  I  may  have  been  mistaken ;  if  so,  I  have 
paid  the  penalty,  by  being  exiled  from  my  country, 
my  home,  and  all  I  loved,  to  become  a  wanderer  on 
the  face  of  the  earth." 

"  It  is  a  hard  fate,  and  I  pity  you." 

"  Hard  indeed,  and  almost  more  than  I  can  bear  ; 
for  the  perpetual  struggle,  to  resist  and  endure  what  I 
have  encountered,  has  almost  shaken  my  reason,  and 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  159 

made  me  sometimes  a  visionary,  I  fear.  The  pen  of 
history  is  now  in  the  hands  of  the  scribes  of  kings,  and 
those  who  dared  to  set  a  high  example  of  justice,  at 
the  expense  of  a  head  that  wore  a  crown,  will  be 
handed  down  to  posterity  as  traitors  and  regicides. 
But" — and  here  the  eyes  of  the  old  man  brightened  as 
if  with  some  new  hope — "  But  there  is  still  one  con- 
solation left  me.  I  look  to  a  new  world,  and  a  new 
people,  to  do  justice  to  my  memory.  From  all  that  I 
can  see  and  judge,  a  new  race  will  spring  up  in  this 
great  region  of  the  west.  The  people  who  are  daily 
flocking  hither  are  destined  to  be  free.  They  have 
been  fitted  for  entering  on  their  rich  inheritance  in  the 
preparatory  school  of  England,  when  great  teach- 
ers were  abroad.  They  have  suffered  too  much  in  the 
Old  "World  by  civil  and  religious  oppression,  ever  will- 
fully to  inflict  it  on  themselves.  They  find  no  impreg- 
nable bulwarks  of  oppression  here ;  no  greybeard 
abuses,  hallowed  by  time,  whose  roots  and  branches 
are  inseparably  intertwined  with  the  very  vitals  of  the 
social  system ;  no  massive  castles  or  splendid  palaces 
to  overawe,  or  shame  the  humble  cottage  ;  no  titled 
satraps,  or  regal  pageants  to  dazzle  the  eye  and  subju- 
gate the  mind ;  no  long-cherished  consciousness  of 
inferiority,  descending  from  generation  to  generation, 
until  it  grows  to  be  a  second  nature ;  no  great  stand- 
ing armies  of  hirelings,  that  under  pretense  of  enforce- 
ing  the  law  or  defending  the  state,  for  ever  become  the 
chosen  instruments  of  oppression  ;  no  bristling  bayonets 
pointed  at  the  heart,  to  quell  the  throbbings  of  liberty. 


160  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

This  New  "World  is  destined  to  be  free.  It  cannot  be 
otherwise.  All  those  great  universal  causes  that  con- 
stitute the  instruments  of  Providence  in  governing  the 
world,  combine  for  the  fulfilment  of  my  prediction. 
Here,  at  least,  I  and  my  fellow-sufferers  will  have  jus- 
tice one  day  done  them  by  millions  of  freemen,  who 
will  adopt  the  great  maxim,  that  rebellion  to  tyrants 
is  obedience  to  God.  This  is  the  hope  that  lights  my 
way,  and  enables  me  to  support  the  load  of  life,  now, 
thanks  be  to  Heaven,  rapidly  drawing  to  an  end." 

The  old  man  spoke  with  all  the  enthusiasm  which 
belongs  to  those  animated  by  a  spark  of  hope  lighted 
from  the  darkness  of  despair.  The  energy  of  his  lan- 
guage and  the  vigor  of  his  thoughts  strangely  con- 
trasted with  his  ghostly  appearance,  which  reminded 
Miriam  of  one  just  risen  from  the  dead.  He  might  be 
likened  to  one  of  those  pale,  sickly  plants,  which  have 
lost  their  natural  wholesome  color,  by  being  shut  up  in 
the  dark,  deprived  of  the  cheerful  air  and  bracing  sun- 
shine. Harold  had  served  with  him  in  the  civil  wars, 
and  they  conversed  together,  till  the  evening  twilight 
warned  them  that  it  was  time  to  separate.  The  old 
man  told  his  story ;  and  surely  if  the  act  of  condemn- 
ing a  king,  whose  conduct  none  living  now  dare  to 
justify,  originated  in  erroneous  principles  or  culpable 
notions,  the  penalty  was  sufficiently  severe.  From  his 
arrival  in  the  New  World,  himself  and  his  companions 
in  exile  were  hunted  through  the  Colonies  by  the 
agents  of  Charles  the  Second,  with  a  perseverance  that 
rendered  their  escape  little  less  than  a  miracle.  After 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  161 

living  in  forests  and  caves,  where  they  were  fed  by 
some  neighboring  colonists,  who  doubted  the  claim  of 
Charles  to  the  dignity  of  a  martyr,  they  at  length 
found  a  last  refuge  in  the  home  of  a  worthy  clergy- 
man, whose  remote  situation  afforded  them  a  prospect 
of  security.  But  even  here  they  were  obliged  to  se- 
clude themselves  within  doors,  and  generally  in  the 
cellar.  For  a  series  of  years  they  were  entirely  lost  to 
the  world.  More  than  a  century  elapsed  from  tho 
period  of  their  disappearance,  before  it  became  known 
what  had  become  of  them ;  and  the  fate  of  the  survi- 
vor, after  the  death  of  his  companions,  is  still  shrouded 
in  oblivion.  Whither  he  wandered,  where  he  died,  or 
where  he  was  buried,  no  one  knows,  or  will  probably 
ever  know.  It  cannot,  however,  be  denied  that  they 
were  men  of  pith  and  nerve,  for  they  set  an  example 
that  had  no  precedent  in  the  history  of  the  world,  and 
taught  posterity  that  the  offences  of  monarchs,  like 
those  of  their  subjects,  may  be  punished  by  the  sen- 
tence of  a  court,  instead  of  the  sacrifice  of  the  people 
they  govern.  No  act  on  record  so  shook  the  thrones 
of  despots,  or  so  effectually  stripped  kings  of  their  di- 
vinity. Since  that  memorable  example,  the  distance 
between  monarchs  and  their  people  has  been  gradually 
diminishing ;  they  are  approaching  each  other,  and  the 
time  may  not  be  far  distant  when  they  will  change 
places. 

Harold  pressed  the  old  man  to  come  and  reside  with 
him.  But  he  shook  his  white  locks,  and  declined  to 
accept  what  might  cost  his  friend  his  life. 


162  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

"  It  cannot  be,"  said  he,  "  I  am  a  bird  of  night,  or 
rather  a  beast  of  prey,  who  only  ventures  forth  in  the 
dark,  not  to  hunt  his  game,  but  to  be  himself  hunted 
if  discovered.  That  I  venture  out  at  all  is  owing  to 
an  irrepressible  longing  I  sometimes  feel  to  breathe 
the  free  air  and  enjoy  a  short  interval  of  liberty.  I 
go  forth  at  night,  and  ramble  through  the  mountains 
all  day,  when  I  again  return  to  my  lair.  I  will  not 
tell  you  where  that  is,  not  that  I  doubt  your  honor  or 
discretion.  But  I  expect  secrecy  from  those  I  have 
trusted,  and  who  have  trusted  me,  and  must  be  secret 
myself.  I  saw  and  knew  you,  and  could  not  resist 
the  desire  of  meeting  an  old  companion  in  arms  in  the 
same  cause.  But  it  is  time  to  part,  and  for  this  young 
maiden  to  be  at  home.  Farewell,  and  may  you  find 
all  you  sought  in  the  New  World." 

They  separated  each  to  go  his  way.  On  their 
return  towards  home  Miriam  asked  her  father  the 
name  of  the  old  grey-headed  man,  but  he  shook  his 
head  and  only  said — 

"  Thou  knowest  he  is  one  of  the  Judges  of  Kings, 
for  such  he  has  announced  himself.  Thou  knowest, 
too,  that  his  life  is  in  danger,  and  only  depends  upon 
the  secrecy  of  others.  I  know  I  could  count  securely 
on  you,  but  I  have  no  right  to  call  on  you  for  the 
exertion  of  a  discretion  which  I  could  not  myself  prac- 
tice. Ask  me  then  no  more  to  tell  his  name." 

Miriam  was  satisfied,  and  nothing  was  said  on  the 
subject,  at  that  or  any  future  time. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

A  Living  Rival  to  a  Dead  Man — Some  Account  of  a  Man  with  a  Good 
Character  at  Home,  and  an  Indifferent  One  Abroad — Approved  Sys- 
tem of  Courtship  which,  however,  Does  not  Succeed — The  New 
Suitor  Thinks  Miriam  Is  Looking  in  a  Strange  Place  for  a  Husband. 

FOR  some  time  past  there  had  appeared  increasing 
symptoms  that  the  memory  of  Langley  Tyringham 
was  about  to  have  a  formidable  rival  in  the  person  of 
an  exceedingly  staid,  sober,  and  somewhat  canting 
neighbor,  whose  visits  to  Harold  became  gradually 
more  and  more  frequent.  This  person  had  by  persever- 
ance in  a  long,  rigid  course  of  hypocrisy,  meanness, 
and  successful  trickery  in  a  small  way,  accompanied  by 
no  direct  violation  of  the  law,  managed  to  acquire  what 
in  these  simple,  economical  times  was  considered  an 
adequate  fortune,  and  that  without  forfeiting  the  re- 
spect of  those  with  whom  he  never  had  any  dealings 
in  the  way  of  business  at  home.  He  always  went  to 
a  distance  to  make  his  bargains,  and  though  his  repu- 
tation was  not  a  little  out  at  the  elbows  abroad,  at 
home  he  was  generally  respected  as  a  consummate 
specimen  of  religious  worldliness,  being  a  strict  ob- 
server of  all  the  decorums  of  life,  as  well  as  all  the 
ordinances  of  the  community.  In  short,  he  was  one 


164  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

of  those  not  very  uncommon  characters,  who  squared 
his  conduct  rather  by  the  law  than  the  gospel,  and  so 
long  as  he  had  the  former  on  his  side,  dispensed  with 
the  latter.  These  are  the  most  dangerous  of  all  men 
to  deal  with,  and  we  advise  our  readers  to  have  as  lit- 
tle to  do  with  them  as  possible.  The  greatest  scoun- 
drel we  ever  knew  was  one  who  squared  his  conduct 
exactly  by  law,  and  considered  everything  right  which 
it  did  not  prohibit.  Though  not  actually  a  lawyer  by 
profession,  he  was  well  versed  in  the  law,  having 
made  it  one  of  his  principal  studies,  to  learn  precisely, 
and  to  a  hair,  how  far  he  could  go  without  burning  his 
fingers,  or  entangling  himself  in  its  cobwebs. 

It  is  quite  certain,  however,  that  Tobias  Harpsfield — 
for  so  was  he  called — with  all  his  circumspection  could 
not  disguise  from  his  own  heart  that  he  was  an  arrant 
rogue.  So  entirely  engrossed  was  he  by  selfishness, 
that  in  shaping  his  course  he  never  thought  of  any- 
body but  himself,  nor  did  it  ever  occur  to  him  that 
there  was  any  other  person  whose  interest  or  conve- 
nience was  to  be  consulted.  If  he  ever  on  any  occa- 
sion sacrificed  to  these,  it  was  only  in  small  matters, 
and  in  the  certain  anticipation  of  some  greater  advan- 
tage to  be  derived  from  his  self-denial.  Still,  with  all 
this,  he  was  called  "  a  very  decent  man,"  and  decency, 
like  charity,  covers  a  multitude  of  sins. 

Tobias — who,  it  is  as  well  to  state,  was  not  one  of  the 
original  band  of  Pilgrims — had  for  some  time  past 
been  "  calculating,"  as  his  phrase  was,  the  great 
advantages  of  a  union  with  Miriam  Habingdon.  In  a 


THE    PURITAN   AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  165 

speculative  mission  to  Naumkeag,  he  ascertained  that 
Harold  had  a  very  considerable  sum  in  the  hands  of 
his  agent  there,  and  as  Miriam  was  his  only  child, 
she  would  be  sole  heiress  as  a  matter  of  course.  True, 
thought  he  in  the  course  of  his  calculation,  "  Master 
Habingdon  is  not  an  old  man,  and  may  marry  again ; 
but  I  calculate  the  chances  are  ten  to  one  against  that, 
and  in  my  favor,  for  women  are  mighty  scarce  in  these 
parts ;  and  in  the  second  place,  I  don't  think  I  ever 
saw  him  speak  to  any  woman  but  his  wife  and  daugh- 
ter, except  when  obliged  to  do  so.  At  all  events,  1 
shall  come  in  for  a  good  slice,  if  I  marry  the  girl,  and 
half  a  loaf  is  better  than  no  bread."  So  Tobias  cal- 
culated he  would  fall  in  love,  and  marry  the  pretty 
heiress. 

He  followed  up  his  conclusion  by  more  frequent 
visits,  until  at  length  both  Miriam  and  her  father 
became  so  accustomed  to  see  him,  that  they  were 
scarcely  aware  of  his  presence.  Harold  continued  to 
read  or  ruminate,  after  the  usual  salutations,  and 
Miriam  pursued  her  domestic  occupations  just  as  if 
they  were  alone.  So  much  was  she  occupied  by  think- 
ing of  another,  that  it  is  extremely  doubtful  whether 
she  ever  thought  at  all  of  Tobias,  or  asked  herself  the 
meaning  of  some  very  original,  outlandish  demonstra- 
tions he  achieved  from  time  to  time.  "We  have 
observed  in  the  course  of  our  experience,  that  your 
cunning  rogues  who  are  ever  on  the  watch  for  prey, 
are  perhaps  of  all  men  the  most  liable  to  be  deceived. 
They  are  so  intent  on  overreaching  others,  that  they 


166  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

have  no  leisure  to  take  care  of  themselves,  and  exem- 
plify the  fable  of  the  Fowler  and  the  Dove.  In 
attacking  the  quarters  of  the  enemy,  they  forget  to 
defend  their  own  ;  and  hence  it  commonly  happens 
that  a  series  of  successful  roguery,  ends  at  last  in 
the  deceiver  becoming  the  dupe. 

Not  that  our  upright,  gentle  Miriam  was  a  deceiver 
— for  if  she  ever  deceived  any  one,  it  was  herself. 
She  treated  Tobias  civilly,  because  she  cared  so  little 
about  him  that  she  never  divined  his  object,  and 
referred  his  visits  entirely  to  her  father.  If  she  had 
really  known  what  it  was,  it  is  highly  probable  that 
notwithstanding  all  her  Christian  forbearance,  she 
might  perad venture  have  thrown  the  distaff  at  his 
head  ;  for  with  the  quick  intuitive  sagacity  of  woman, 
she  had  penetrated  the  dark  recesses  of  his  character, 
and  despised  him  heartily.  Women  are  seldom  de- 
ceived in  men  except  by  their  own  passions.  Thus 
Tobias  thought  himself  sailing  with  wind  and  tide, 
when  he  was  in  fact  entirely  becalmed  ;  and  having  at 
length  calculated  that  if  he  broke  the  ice,  he  would 
catch  the  fish,  he  opened  his  mind  to  Harold,  who  to 
say  the  truth  received  his  communication  with  more 
surprise  than  disapprobation,  for  he  was  quite  ignorant 
of  the  inward  man  of  Tobias.  A  few  minutes'  reflec- 
tion brought  to  his  mind  the  unprotected  state  of 
Miriam  in  the  event  of  his  being  called  away  by  the 
messenger  that  stops  sooner  or  later  at  every  man's 
door ;  and  in  addition  to  this,  the  hope  that  new  ties 
and  duties  might  in  time  heal  the  deep  wound  he 


THE    PURITAN   AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  167 

could  well  see  still  festered  in  the  heart  of  Miriam, 
rendered  him,  if  not  favorably  inclined,  at  least  not 
averse  to  the  proposal.  "What  rendered  it  still  more 
palatable,  was  the  idea  that  this  union  would  not  sepa- 
rate him  from  his  daughter.  These  thoughts  flitted 
rapidly  through  his  mind,  and  resulted  in  a  permission 
to  make  his  proposal  known  to  Miriam. 

Tobias  had  hoped  the  affair  might  have  been  settled, 
like  a  royal  marriage,  by  proxy ;  but  there  being  no 
help  for  it,  he  proceeded  to  the  little  sitting  room  pecu- 
liarly appropriated  to  Miriam,  conning  a  declaration  by 
the  way,  a  great  portion  of  which  is  for  ever  lost  to 
posterity.  Before  he  had  half  finished,  he  met  such  a 
look  of  mingled  anguish,  contempt  and  repugnance 
from  the  young  maiden,  that  he  fairly  lost  his  utter- 
ance, though  a  man  of  great  self-possession,  that  being 
necessary  to  his  vocation.  The  heart-stricken  Miriam 
rose,  tottered  towards  the  door,  and  said  to  him  in  a 
voice  agitated  by  deep  emotion,  as  she  turned  to  leave 
the  room — 

"  Go  to  my  father,  and  tell  him  when  I  seek  a  hus- 
band it  will  be  in  the  grave." 

Tobias  did  as  directed,  and  Harold  assured  him  that 
the  answer  was  decisive.  He  would  never,  he  said, 
again  exert  his  authority,  or  influence  her  decision  in 
a  matter  so  deeply  interesting  to  his  daughter,  having 
seen  and  felt  the  consequence  of  such  interference. 
Tobias  departed  full  of  the  gall  of  bitterness,  medita- 
ting schemes  of  malice  and  revenge,  but  at  the  same 


168  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

time  could  not  help  thinking  the  grave  was  rather  a 
strange  place  for  a  young  lady  to  look  for  a  husband. 
When  he  was  out  of  sight,  Miriam  put  on  her  straw 
bonnet — the  work  of  her  own  hand — and  walked  forth 
in  the  holy  stillness  of  the  modest  twilight,  along  the 
smooth  grassy  terrace  which  formed  what  is  called  the 
second  bank  of  the  river.  Her  heart  seemed  to  have 
received  a  new  wound  from  the  proposal  to  substitute 
another  idol  there,  and  she  strictly  scrutinized  her  past 
deportment  towards  Tobias  Harpsfield,  to  satisfy  her- 
self that  she  had  never  in  word,  deed,  or  look  encour- 
aged him  to  this  sacrilegious  rivalry  of  the  dead.  Her 
memory  entirely  acquitted  her  of  such  offence ;  yet, 
still  her  heart  persisted  in  reproaching  her  for  the 
involuntary  crime  of  attracting  another  suitor.  Tobias, 
from  being  an  object  of  perfect  indifference,  became 
gradually  elevated  to  one  of  decided  dislike,  if  not 
antipathy.  As  she  wandered  on,  her  mind  naturally 
strayed  into  the  regions  of  the  past,  and  recalled,  with 
unfailing  accuracy,  every  incident  calculated  to  re- 
vivify those  deep-rooted  impressions  of  sorrow,  that 
happily  for  the  stricken  deer  of  this  world,  when 
softened  by  time,  and  assuaged  by  resignation,  exer- 
cise a  sort  of  fascination,  which,  while  it  incites  to 
new  indulgence,  carries  like  the  bee  some  honey  with 
its  sting.  She  returned  home  in  her  usual  quiet  mood. 
The  waters  had  been  indeed  rudely  ruffled,  but  were 
now  calm,  not  only  on  the  surface,  but  in  the  depths 
below.  When  she  met  her  father,  he  kissed  her  fore- 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  169 

head  tenderly.  Neither  spoke  a  word  of  what  had 
just  passed,  and  the  subject  was  not  resumed  until 
events  about  to  be  related  caused  it  to  be  once  more 
revived. 


VOL.  n. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Symptoms  of  Trouble — The  Church  in  Danger — An  Apparition  Ap- 
pears, Disappears,  and  Is  never  Seen  again — A  Fatal  Accident — 
A  Conversation  and  a  Death— The  Pagan's  Offering— Old  Servants, 
Old  Friends— A  Sonnet. 

HITHERTO  our  pilgrims,  though  on  the  frontier  of  the 
civilized  world,  and  directly  in  the  route  from  Canada 
to  the  colonies  of  New  England,  had  escaped  the 
ravages  of  Indian  hostility.  They  had  purchased  the 
lands  they  occupied  from  the  original  proprietors  at  a 
price  which,  though  it  may  now  appear  totally  inade- 
quate to  their  value,  was  at  that  time  a  fair  equivalent. 
It  is  the  labor  of  man  that  gives  value  to  the  earth ; 
and  to  the  roaming  tenants  of  the  uncultivated  wilds, 
whose  claims  could  not  be  said  to  be  founded  on  pos- 
session, the  relinquish  ment  of  a  small  portion  was  of 
little  consequence.  The  early  settlers  of  this  country 
have  been  accused  by  philanthropists,  whose  zeal  out- 
runs their  knowledge,  of  having  robbed  the  Indians  of 
their  lands.  But  such  was  not  the  case.  The  condi- 
tion of  all  the  early  grants  of  public  lands  for  imme- 
diate settlement  was  the  purchase  of  the  Indian  rights ; 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  171 

and  it  must  be  obvious  to  all  reflecting  minds,  that  in 
the  first  stages  of  colonization,  the  weakness  of  the 
colonists  was  such  as  to  preclude  all  acquisitions  by 
force.  The  friendship  of  the  savages  was  indispensable 
to  every  new  settlement,  and  for  a  long  period  they 
were  made  either  by  fair  purchase,  or  by  consent  of  the 
Indians.  When,  in  process  of  time,  owing  to  causes 
which  seem  inseparable  from  the  contact  of  the  civil- 
ized and  savage  man,  wars  ensued  between  the  two 
races,  the  right  of  conquest,  recognized,  if  not  by  the 
law  of  nature  at  least  by  the  practice  of  all  civilized 
as  well  as  savage  nations,  became  applicable  here  as 
well  as  elsewhere ;  and  it  was  then  that  lands  were 
acquired  at  the  price,  not  of  money,  but  blood.  The 
remoteness  and  obscurity  of  the  scenes  and  times  ren- 
der it  difficult  to  decide  which  party  was  the  first 
aggressor ;  but  it  would  be  in  opposition  to  all  reason 
and  experience  to  presume  that  while  the  whiteman 
continued  the  weaker  party,  he  would  wantonly  pro- 
voke the  hostility  of  the  stronger,  and  thus  ensure  his 
own  destruction.  The  aborigines  of  this  country  are 
notoriously  a  jealous,  as  well  as  a  revengeful  race;  and 
so  soon  as  they  began  to  comprehend  the  truth,  that 
the  progress  of  the  whitemen  involved  their  own  cer- 
tain fate,  from  that  moment  they  determined  to  repel 
or  exterminate  the  intruders. 

It  was  at  this  period  that  the  conviction  seems  to 
have  become  general  among  the  savages  of  New  Eng- 
land, who  had  formed  a  general  confederacy  to  anni- 
hilate the  race  of  the  whiteman,  and  by  a  single  blow 


172  THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS   DAUGHTER. 

free  themselves  from  all  apprehension  of  the  conse- 
quences which  they  foresaw  awaited  them;  accord- 
ingly the  plan  was  matured  with  a  secrecy  almost 
miraculous,  and  the  moment  appointed  for  striking 
the  blow. 

One  Sabbath  day,  when  the  little  congregation  had 
gathered  together  according  to  custom  with  their 
weapons  at  hand — for  danger  accompanied  them  in  the 
fields  as  well  as  in  the  house  of  prayer — when  the 
auditors  were  about  to  offer  up  their  grateful  acknow- 
ledgments to  the  Griver  of  all  good,  and  when  the  good 
pastor  was  fervently  inculcating  the  peaceful  doctrines 
of  the  Saviour  of  mankind,  the  shrill  war-whoop 
sounded  the  knell  of  death  in  their  ears,  and  called 
their  thoughts  from  heaven  to  earth.  The  men  seized 
their  arms  and  rushed  forth  only  to  encounter  a  band 
of  painted  warriors,  who  set  upon  them  with  savage 
fury.  They  were  taken  by  surprize,  and  thrown  into 
confusion ;  their  efforts  were  without  concert,  for  the 
military  experience  of  Harold  was  inapplicable  to 
Indian  warfare,  and  consequently  ineffectual.  The 
savages  gradually  gained  ground,  and  neared  the 
church,  where  the  women  and  children  were  awaiting 
their  fate  in  trembling  apprehension,  the  whitemen 
were  on  the  point  of  retreating  to  the  sacred  asylum, 
there  to  make  a  last  effort,  and  the  fate  of  all,  wives, 
children,  friends,  everything  dear  hung  on  the  moment, 
when  suddenly  there  appeared  among  them  an  aged 
man,  with  long  white  beard,  and  head  whitened  with 
the  snows  of  many  winters,  who  called  on  them  in  a 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  173 

voice  that  seemed  accustomed  to  obedience,  and 
arrested  their  retreat.  His  appearance  awed  the 
savages,  and  for  a  brief  space  arrested  their  efforts. 

"  Will  the  champions  of  the  true  faith,"  cried  he  in 
a  loud  voice,  "  flee  before  the  children  of  Satan?  Stop 
— turn — and  fight  the  good  fight  for  your  wives,  your 
children,  and  your  Grod !  Follow  me !"  The  old  man 
placed  himself  at  the  head  of  the  wavering  troop,  and 
ere  the  awe-struck  savages  recovered  from  their  dis- 
may, arranged  his  little  band  with  martial  skill,  and 
led  them  on  to  victory.  The  affrighted  barbarians  soon 
fled  before  what  they  believed  a  supernatural  being ; 
and  when  the  battle  was  gained,  the  old  man  disap- 
peared as  suddenly  as  he  came.  He  was  never  seen 
again,  and  none  knew  what  became  of  him.  It  was 
the  last  appearance  of  one  who  had  sat  in  judgment 
on  a  king. 

Previous  to  the  confusion  which  had  been  arrested 
by  the  vision  of  the  old  man  with  the  white  beard, 
Harold,  who  had  stood  foremost  in  the  fight,  was 
knocked  down  and  tomahawked,  by  a  savage  who 
came  behind  him  unawares.  Miriam  saw  him  fall, 
and,  in  spite  of  all  opposition,  rushed  out,  and  raising 
his  head  from  the  ground,  supported  him  in  her  arms, 
while  she  endeavored  to  staunch  the  blood  that  flowed 
from  a  deep  wound  in  his  back  between  the  shoulders. 
When  the  fight  was  over,  he  was  borne  to  his  home, 
insensible  from  loss  of  blood,  followed  by  his  weeping 
daughter.  He  was  brought  to  himself  by  slow  degrees, 
but  it  was  only  to  become  sensible  that  his  wound  was 


174  THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS    DAUGHTER. 

mortal.  Yet  he  lived  several  days,  supporting,  with 
manly  resignation,  those  pains  of  body  only  equalled 
by  those  of  his  mind.  The  thought  of  leaving  his 
lonely,  friendless  child  in  this  remote,  exposed  region 
without  a  protector,  and  among  those  who  shared  not 
a  drop  of  her  kindred  blood,  smote  sorely  on  his  heart, 
though  his  piety  persuaded  him  he  might  safely  leave 
her  to  the  protection  of  Heaven.  When  he  beheld  that 
dutiful  and  loving  child,  who  he  knew  was  heavily 
laden  with  sorrows  of  her  own,  forgetting  herself  as  if 
she  had  no  being ;  hovering  over  him  by  day  and  by 
night,  like  a  ministering  angel,  anticipating  his  wants, 
administering  to  his  wound,  and  soothing  him  with 
soft  commiseration,  his  heart  smote  him  deeply  that 
but  for  him  she  might  now  have  one  to  protect  and 
cherish  her  when  he  was  gone.  In  the  midst  of  these 
painful  recollections  and  forebodings,  he  one  day, 
shortly  before  he  died,  recalled  to  mind  the  proposal  of 
Tobias  Harpsfield,  and  determined  to  make  one  more 
effort  in  his  behalf,  rather  than  leave  his  daughter 
thus  alone  in  the  world. 

"  Daughter,"  said  he  to  Miriam,  who  was  sitting  in 
the  breathless  calm  of  speechless  anxiety,  watching 
him  as  these  painful  thoughts  passed  over  his  mind, 
"  Daughter,  thou  knowest  we  are  soon  to  part  for  ever 
in  this  world,  to  meet,  I  trust,  hereafter  in  a  better. 
Art  thou  prepared  for  the  trial  ?" 

"  Father,"  replied  she,  "  I  have  been  taught,  and 
hope  I  have  learned,  submission  to  the  will  of  Heaven." 

"  True,  Miriam ;  thou  hast  answered  like  a  Chris- 


THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS   DAUGHTER.  175 

tian.  But  I  am  about  to  leave  thee  here  in  this  wil- 
derness alone  and  unprotected,  save  by  thy  innocenco 
and  piety ;  and  though  I  have  especial  trust  in  these, 
I  own  I  should  die  more  assured  and  happy  if  I  could 
leave  thee  under  the  protection  of  some  worthy  hus- 
band, like  Master  Tobias  Harpsfield." 

"  Father!1'  exclaimed  Miriam,  in  dismay. 

"  Nay,  hear  me,  Miriam.  I  once  before  told  thee  I 
regretted  most  deeply  my  stern,  and,  I  will  add, 
bigotted  opposition  to  the  dearest  wishes  of  thy  heart. 
When  I  recall  the  past,  I  can  find  no  fault  with  Lang- 
ley  Tyringham.  But  he  is  now  dead,  and — " 

"  But  his  memory  did  not  die  with  him,  dear  father," 
interrupted  Miriam ;  "I,  at  least,  will  never  forget  him." 

"  But  his  memory  will  not  protect  thee  when  I  am 
gone." 

"Heaven  will  protect  me,"  said  she,  casting  her 
eyes  upwards;  "a  better  protector  by  far  than  an 
unworthy,  selfish  husband.  But,  dear  father,  do  not 
let  the  few  last  hours  we  are  permitted  to  pass  together 
be  embittered  by  a  subject  on  which  we  never  can 
agree.  I  have  thus  far  kept  my  pledge  never  to  wed 
without  thy  consent,  and  humbly  urge  that  filial  duty 
can  justly  require  no  greater  test  of  obedience.  Oh  ! 
leave  me — I  beseech  thee,  leave  me  to  the  fulfilment 
of  another  vow  I  made  to  poor  Langley  at  parting, 
which  I  hold  equally  sacred — that  of  fidelity  to  the 
memory  of  the  only  man  that  ever  awakened  me  to 
the  conviction  that  there  was  another  feeling  stronger 
jnd  more  enduring  than  even  filial  love." 


176  THE    PURITAN   AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

"  "Well,  daughter,  be  it  so.  Thou  hast  made  a  great 
sacrifice  to  me — I  will  make  a  lesser  one  to  thee.  In 
these  last  moments  of  my  life,  I  hope  I  have  recovered 
what  I  too  often  lost,  the  peaceful  empire  over  myself. 
Let  the  subject  be  at  rest.  I  will  trust  thy  inno- 
cence to  One  who,  if  He  does  not  always  shield  it 
here,  will  assuredly  reward  it  hereafter.  Remem- 
ber always,  Miriam,  that  it  is  better  to  suffer  than 
to  merit  suffering ;  that  there  is  no  shield  for  inno- 
cence like  innocence  itself  and  no  balm  for  sorrow 
like  patience  and  resignation.  I  will  trust  thee  to 
Heaven." 

Miriam  earnestly  begged  forgiveness  for  opposing 
his  wishes,  adding — 

"Even  could  I  forget  my  vow  to  Langley,  I  could 
never  have  consented  to  wed  Tobias  Harpsfield.  Be- 
lieve me,  my  father,  he  is  equally  unworthy  of  thee 
and  thine.  I  have  indeed  but  little  experience  in  the 
world,  but  I  have  lived  with  those  who  taught  me  to 
know  the  look  and  language  of  sincerity,  and  my  heart 
has  communed  with  one  who  was  the  soul  of  honor 
and  the  mirror  of  truth.  I  have  seen  into  the  secret 
heart  of  this  bad  man,  and  believe  me,  father,  he  is  a 
hypocrite  and  a  villain.  I  would  rather  suffer  the 
Indian  tortures  of  scalp  and  fire  than  wed  with  that 
man.  But,  dear  father,  let  not  my  selfish  sorrows 
weary  thee." 

"  No,  daughter  ;  and,  if  thou  did,  a  few  hours  more 
or  less  of  life  are  only  a  few  sands  of  the  hour-glass. 
I  have  something  else  to  say  before  I  have  done." 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  177 

He  then  briefly  informed  her  that  he  had  long  ago 
made  his  will ;  that,  being  now  of  age,  she  would 
have  the  sole  disposal  of  his  property  ;  and  that  the 
good  pastor  had  promised  his  kind  offices  whenever 
she  required  protection  or  advice.  He  enjoined  her  to 
look  to  him  as  a  parent  on  all  occasions,  and  giving 
her  a  paternal  kiss,  desired  to  be  left  alone  awhile,  as 
he  felt  exhausted  and  drowsy.  He  fell  asleep,  but 
never  waked  more,  and  was  found  about  an  hour 
afterwards  dead,  with  his  hands  folded  on  his  breast, 
and  his  eyes  cast  upwards. 

The.  good  man — for  such  he  was  with  all  his 
bigotry — was  buried  by  the  side  of  his  faithful  help- 
mate, and  accompanied  to  the  grave  by  all  his  neigh- 
bors with  sad  decorum.  Among  the  rest  was  an 
Indian,  who  had  become  attached  to  Harold  by  many 
acts  of  kindness,  and  who  greatly  scandalized  the  good 
Puritans  by  casting  his  pipe  and  bow  and  arrows  into 
the  grave.  "  Let  them  remain,"  said  the  good  pastor, 
"  it  is  the  offering  of  gratitude." 

The  grief  of  the  bereaved  daughter  was  a  silent 
grief,  and  her  tears  were  shed  in  solitude.  She  became 
more  pale  than  ever,  and  her  form  lost  much  of  that 
graceful  roundness  which  gives  such  harmony  to  the 
human  figure.  There  might  be  seen  after  this  event 
a  slight  expression  of  that  stern  determination,  with 
which  the  well-poised  spirit  braces  itself  to  meet  the 
stormy  wave  of  rough  calamity.  This,  however,  gra- 
dually disappeared,  and  her  face  once  more  assumed 
that  calm,  resigned,  and  beautiful  expression,  which 
8* 


178  THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS    DAUGHTER. 

forms  the  mirror  of  a  soul  innocent  of  remorse,  yet  not 
exempt  from  sorrow. 

The  faithful  Mildred,  fast  descending  into  the  vale 
of  years,  was  now  her  only  domestic  companion,  or 
rather  friend ;  for  long  and  faithful  services  elevate 
the  character  of  a  menial  into  that  of  a  friend.  So 
thought  rare  Ben  Jonson,  when  he  addressed  a  sonnet 
to  an  old  servant,  who  became  afterwards  a  respecta- 
ble dramatic  writer,  as  follows : — "  To  my  faithful 
servant,  and  (by  his  continued  virtue)  my  loving  friend, 
Mr.  Richard  Broome." 


CHAPTER    XV. 

Miriam  Alone  in  the  World— The  Good  Pastor  Falls  Asleep  in  His 
Pulpit — One  of  Job's  Comforters — A  Suitor  Non-suited  before  Com- 
mencing His  Suit — New  Lords,  New  Laws,  and  New  Emigrants — 
Consequences. 

MIRIAM  was  now  alone  in  the  wilderness  ;  and  like 
Logan,  there  was  not  a  drop  of  kindred  blood  flowing 
in  the  veins  of  any  human  being  breathing  in  the  New 
World.  She  was  without  any  stay  but  the  tempered 
energies  of  her  own  mind,  strengthened  by  a  firm  reli- 
ance on  the  protection  of  Heaven.  The  benevolent 
shepherd  of  the  little  flock  to  whose  care  she  had  been 
recommended  by  her  dying  parent,  assisted  her  with 
his  advice,  and  consoled  her  with  his  sympathy.  On 
the  settlement  of  her  affairs,  she  found  herself  in  a 
situation  not  only  to  supply  all  her  own  wants,  but  to 
administer  to  the  necessities  of  others,  when  occasion 
required.  It  was  not  often,  indeed ;  for  beggary  was 
not  then  in  fashion,  and  it  was  thought  much  better 
to  labor  for  support,  than  to  derive  it  from  the  labors 
of  others.  There  was  but  one  pauper  in  the  commu- 
nity, and  she  was  a  stranger. 

When  the  silent  grief  of  a  deeply-wounded  spirit, 


180  THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS   DAUGHTER. 

had  begun  to  feel  the  balmy  influence  of  the  old  grey- 
beard comforter,  Time,  Miriam,  though  she  might  not 
be  called  happy,  was  far  from  being  miserable.  Her 
recollections  of  the  past  were  unaccompanied  by 
remorse  ;  her  present  situation  was  surrounded  by  the 
simple  comforts  which  money  could  command  in  that 
remote  region ;  and  the  future  was  brightened  by  a 
hope  beyond  the  grave.  Her  habits  of  industry  were 
now  a  never-failing  resource  ;  she  never  felt  the  pres- 
sure of  unoccupied  time,  that  deadly  nightmare  which 
poisons  the  existence  of  those  favored  mortals,  the 
envy  of  their  fellow-creatures,  who  undergo  ten  times 
more  labor  in  search  of  pleasure,  than  the  poor  man 
does  in  search  of  bread  ;  and  find  harder  work  in  kill- 
ing time  than  others  do  in  employing  it  usefully.  In 
her  hours  of  contemplation,  she  was  never  alone,  for 
her  thoughts  dwelt  on  objects,  which  though  not 
always  present,  yet  ever  and  anon,  returned  in  the 
semblance  of  departed  friends,  who  dead  to  the  world, 
seemed  to  live  for  her  alone.  She  became  at  length  so 
familiarized  to  these  contemplations,  that  instead  of 
paining,  they  soothed  her  heart,  and  she  would  not 
have  exchanged  them  for  joy  and  gladness.  Their 
shadows  ever  appeared  with  approving  smiles,  not 
frowning  scowls,  as  if  reproaching  her  with  some  past 
offence  ;  and  when  this  is  the  case,  the  memory  of  tho 
past,  though  it  may  be  peopled  with  lost  friends,  brings 
with  it  a  soothing,  gentle  pleasure,  that  may  well  com- 
pare with  the  delusive  dreams  of  hope.  Wretched, 


THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS   DAUGHTER.  181 

indeed,  are  those  who  dare  not  look  backwards,  for  the 
future  can  afford  them  little  consolation  for  the  past. 

Thus  months  passed  away  with  little  incident,  and 
less  variety.  But  this  calm  was  at  length  ruffled  by 
an  event  of  passing  interest  to  the  Pilgrim  band.  The 
faithful  shepherd,  who  had  led  his  flock  into  the  lonely 
wilderness,  and  watched  and  prayed  for  their  welfare ; 
whose  advice  had  directed,  and  whose  example  guided 
them  in  all  the  vicissitudes  of  their  course,  was  sud- 
denly and  without  warning  called  away  by  the  great 
accountant,  who  sooner  or  later  brings  all  mankind  to 
a  reckoning.  To  some  he  gives  a  short  credit  o*f  a  few 
hours,  or  months ;  to  others  he  allows  a  longer  period ; 
and  to  a  few,  some  fourscore  years,  or  upwards.  But 
they  must  pay  at  last ;  and  when  they  think  he  has 
forgotten,  or  rubbed  out  the  score,  appears  on  a  sudden 
like  some  pale  officer,  and  lodges  them  in  that  narrow 
cell,  wherein  no  air  can  blow.  One  Sabbath  morning, 
just  as  the  good  man  was  giving  his  blessing  to  his 
flock,  he  fell  back  in  his  pulpit,  and  word  spake 
nevermore.  His  last  breath  was  spent  in  prayer,  and 
his  last  word  was  a  benediction.  His  death  threw  a 
gloom  over  all  around,  for  he  never  discouraged  inno- 
cent mirth,  delighted  in  seeing  smiling  faces,  and  did 
not  believe  it  necessary  to  live  in  the  perpetual  gloom 
of  present  night,  in  order  to  enjoy  the  brightness  of 
the  future  day. 

Here  was  the  last  staff  broken,  and  poor  Miriam 
had  no  earthly  prop  to  lean  upon,  but  an  aged  woman, 
kind  and  affectionate  indeed,  from  long  habit ;  but 


182  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

possessing  a  narrow  mind,  incapable  of  sympathiz- 
ing with  hers.  It  was  at  this  period,  too,  that  she 
began  to  be  again  pestered  with  the  visits  of  Tobias 
Harpsfield,  who,  notwithstanding  his  former  rebuff, 
still  continued  to  calculate  that  she  would  be  an  excel- 
lent speculation.  He  had  taken  great  pains  to  ascer- 
tain precisely  what  she  was  worth,  and  watched  with 
the  patience  of  a  beast  of  prey  to  see  how,  one  by  one, 
all  those  who  would  protect  or  defend  his  victim,  were 
called  away  from  her.  He  had  a  high  opinion  of  per- 
severance, and  was  accustomed  to  say,  that  he  who 
held  out  to  the  last  would  always  win.  Accordingly, 
having  waited  "  a  decent  time,"  as  he  expressed  it — 
for  decency  was  his  moral  creed — he  recommenced  his 
devoirs,  by  calling  on  a  visit  of  condolence,  of  all  visits 
the  most  irksome  to  the  receiver,  when  paid  by  one 
who  feels  no  sympathy. 

"  Ah,"  quoth  Tobias,  casting  up  his  greygoose  eyes, 
"  ah !  he  was  a  good  man — an  excellent  man — a  ten- 
der husband,  an  affectionate  parent,  a  kind  neighbor, 
and  a  pious  believer.  Such  a  loss  can  never  be  repair- 
ed ;  it  is  worse  than  that  of  your  excellent  mother. 
You  will  never  get  such  another  father.  But  though 
left  alone  in  the  world  without  a  friend  or  relation,  you 
should  not  despair,  for  there  are  thousands  and  tens  of 
thousands  in  this  world  a  great  deal  worse  off  than 
you,  who  have  wherewithal  to  support  yourself  hand- 
somely and  ride  in  your  own  carriage,  with  two  horses, 
if  you  choose." 

This  was  about  the  sum  total  of  the  consolations  of 


THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS   DAUGHTER.  183 

philosophy,  according  to  the  creed  of  Tobias,  who  was 
one  of  that  very  numerous  class  who  think  money  not 
only  a  great  blessing,  but  one  equivalent  to  the  absence 
of  all  others.  Miriam  received  and  listened  to  him  with 
loathing.  "With  the  sure  instinct  of  woman  she  saw 
into  his  heart,  the  sole  animating  principle  of  which 
was  a  grovelling  selfishness,  not  merely  confined  to  a 
preference  of  his  own  gratification  above  that  of  all 
others,  but  to  the  exclusion  of  the  rest  of  the  world. 
Still,  the  alleged  kindness,  of  his  motive  for  this  visit 
forbade  her  treating  him  with  downright  incivility, 
and  Tobias  departed  quite  satisfied  that  he  had  broken 
the  ice  very  successfully,  though  if  he  had  read  her 
countenance  he  would  have  groaned  in  spirit,  and 
gnashed  his  teeth.  But  the  truth  is,  he  was  so  com- 
pletely absorbed  by  his  own  selfish  purposes,  that  he 
forgot  everything  besides.  He  studied  only  in  his  own 
book,  and  never  looked  into  the  pages  of  others.  Fol- 
lowing up  this  auspicious  commencement,  Tobias 
repeated  his  visits,  gradually  shortening  the  intervals 
between  them,  until  his  persecution  became  almost 
intolerable.  There  was  no  getting  rid  of  him  ;  for  in 
these  matter-of-fact  days,  the  last  thing  thought  of 
would  have  been  to  instruct  a  servant  in  the  art  of 
lying,  by  denying  the  master  or  mistress  when  actu- 
ally at  home.  The  upright,  punctilious  Mildred  would 
have  scorned  such  a  mission. 

Nor  was  this  all.  Miriam  could  not  take  a  walk, 
morning,  noon,  or  evening,  without  what  Tobias 
called  a  chance  meeting ;  and  if  she  staid  at  home, 


184  THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS   DAUGHTER. 

he  had  ever  some  clumsy  excuse  for  calling.  He 
watched  her  going  to  church,  or  waylaid  her  in  return- 
ing ;  accompanied  her  home  ;  and  in  short,  so  managed 
matters,  that  at  length  the  neighbors  began  to  com- 
pliment Miriam  on  her  conquest  in  a  sly  way,  and 
ask  her  "when  it  was  to  be."  This  tickled  Tobias 
mightily,  for  he  thought  there  must  be  something  in 
it,  as  everybody  seemed  to  be  of  the  same  opinion.  He 
was  a  cunning,  but  not  a  wise  man.  Perseverance 
will  carry  the  day  at  last,  thought  he,  as  he  was  pro- 
ceeding on  his  daily  visit  with  a  full  resolution  to  try 
his  fortune  once  more. 

Now  it  so  happened,  that  on  that  very  morning 
Miriam  had  been  for  the  second  time  complimented 
by  a  knowing  old  dame,  a  near  neighbor,  who  took 
particular  cognizance  of  other  people's  affairs— on  her 
approaching  wedding.  Heavens !  how  her  heart  swell- 
ed with  indignant  sorrow  at  the  idea  of  such  a  suc- 
cessor to  Langley.  It  was  not  to  be  borne ;  and  though 
the  discreet  Tobias  had  as  yet  never  repeated  his  pro- 
posal, or  given  her  a  fair  opportunity  for  discarding 
him,  she  at  once  resolved  to  take  it  without  it  being 
given,  though  it  was  rather  an  awkward  business  to 
nonsuit  one  who  had  not  actually  commenced  his  suit. 

She  was  in  the  height  of  her  indignation,  when 
Tobias  walked  in  without  knocking — for  he  affected 
to  be  very  intimate — and  full  of  his  purpose  to  try  his 
fortune  a  second  time.  He  had  wrought  himself  up 
to  the  crisis — he  had  cleared  his  throat  by  a  vigorous 
"hem,"  and  warmed  his  icy  soul  by  a  vision  of  her 


THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS  DAUGHTER.  185 

dower,  when  Miriam  anticipated  his  purpose,  by  meet- 
ing him  considerably  more  than  half  way.  She  began 
by  referring  to  her  peculiar  situation,  as  a  single 
woman,  without  father  or  mother,  and  living  almost 
alone ;  to  the  delicate  proprieties  such  a  situation 
imposed  ;  to  his  frequent  visits,  and  constant  intrusion 
everywhere ;  and  finally,  with  a  flushed  cheek  and 
flashing  eye,  bespeaking  mingled  modesty  and  loath- 
ing, she  alluded  to  the  reports  which  his  conduct  had 
produced. 

Tobias  sat  with  open  ears,  eyes,  and  mouth,  antici- 
pating a  prosecution  for  breach  of  promise,  after  the 
fashion  of  New  England  spinsters,  if  he  did  not  forth- 
with offer  her  his  hand.  "What  then  was  his  astonish- 
ment and  dismay,  when  he  was  saluted  with  a  peremp- 
tory request,  which  sounded  very  much  like  a  demand, 
that  he  would  at  once,  and  forever,  discontinue  his 
visits ;  forbear  all  further  attentions,  and  consider  him- 
self a  perfect  stranger  in  future.  The  revulsion  of  his 
feelings  was  terribly  bitter.  He  was  taken  by  sur- 
prise ;  replied  not  a  word ;  and  departed  without 
taking  leave,  filled  with  anger,  malice,  and  revenge. 

"While  the  disastrous  courtship  of  Master  Tobias 
Harpsfield  had  been  progressing  backwards,  various 
changes  highly  important  to  the  destinies  of  our  little 
community  occurred.  New  accessions  of  settlers  had 
come ;  various  improvements  had  been*  made  or  sug- 
gested by  certain  troublesome  and  mischievous  busy- 
bodies,  called  "public-spirited  citizens;"  and  the  body 
politic,  inflated  with  its  self-importance,  began  to 


186  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

aspire  to  the  dignity  of  an  incorporation.  This  notion 
was  fostered,  if  not  originally  engendered,  by  certain 
leading  men,  who  thought  they  had  undoubted  claim 
to  official  distinction.  The  whole  project  was,  how- 
ever, knocked  on  the  head  for  the  present  by  a  shrewd 
old  deacon,  who  warned  the  good  people  that  a  charter 
was  only  a  cunning  device  to  enable  the  corporation 
to  run  in  debt  without  paying,  and  plunder  the 
community  under  color  of  law.  A  new  judge  had 
been  appointed,  who,  coming  direct  from  the  oldest  but 
one  town  in  the  State,  was  looked  up  to  with  sinful 
reverence ;  and  to  crown  all,  a  new  pastor  had  been 
called  from  the  midst  of  the  witches,  who  began  about 
this  time  again  to  play  their  diabolical  pranks  at 
Naumkeag,  and  elsewhere.  He  was  accompanied  by 
a  number  of  disciples,  enamored  of  his  doctrines  and 
preaching.  These  innovations  and  innovators  brought 
with  them  the  seeds  of  much  after  disturbance,  and 
caused  a  deal  of  mischief,  as  well  as  misery. 

The  new  arrivals,  judge,  pastor  and  flock,  were, 
without  exception,  devout  believers  in  witchcraft, 
coming  as  they  did  from  the  very  focus  of  witchen- 
dom.  Such  a  delusion  might  seem  strange,  had  it 
not  been  cherished  in  every  age  and  nation  of  the 
world.  It  has  been  ridiculed  as  an  error  of  supersti- 
tion and  ignorance ;  but  to  this  day,  so  far  as  we 
know,  it  has  never  been  philosophically  treated,  nor 
has  any  attempt  been  made  to  demonstrate  its  incom- 
patibility with  nature,  reason,  philosophy  and  science. 
At  this  moment  there  exists  among  a  large  portion  of 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  187 

mankind,  the  latent  seeds  of  that  same  delusion, 
which,  in  the  age  of  which  we  are  speaking,  produced 
such  deplorable  examples  of  the  weakness  of  reason, 
the  strength  and  ferocity  of  fear.  Happily,  though 
tolerated  by  the  pulpit,  in  compliment  to  the  "Witch 
of  Endor,  it  is  repudiated  by  the  law,  and  its  punish- 
ment is  now  founded  not  in  its  reality,  but  its  non- 
existence. 

The  course  of  our  story  leads  to  a  revival  of  these 
times,  and  the  reference  is  made  with  no  view  to  re- 
flect on  a  .race  of  men  whose  integrity,  piety,  and 
heroism  were  amply  sufficient  to  atone  for  all  their 
faults  and  weaknesses.  The  records  of  past  ages  are 
equally  useful,  as  affording  examples  to  imitate  or 
avoid ;  and  it  cannot  be  denied,  that  in  the  present 
age,  the  credulity  of  science  is  quite  equal  to  that  of 
ignorance  in  days  of  yore.  The  reign  of  superstition, 
if  we  do  not  err,  if  it  has  ever  gone  by,  is  about  to  be 
revived  ;  and  witchcraft  and  necromancy  seem  des- 
tined to  assume  the  dignity  of  sciences.  It  is  well  for 
the  professors  of  mesmerism  they  did  not  practice  their 
impositions  some  two  centuries  ago,  for  they  would 
assuredly  have  been  brought  to  the  stake  or  the 
gallows. 

Though  unhappily  at  that  time  recognized  as  genu- 
ine, by  men  whose  piety  and  learning  were  equal  to 
any  of  their  cotemporaries,  it  was  a  species  of  witchcraft 
of  the  most  vulgar  species,  and  had  in  it  nothing  of 
the  vague  sublimity  of  the  invisible  world.  It  con- 
sisted entirely  in  physical  inflictions,  or  practical  jokes 


188  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

carried  to  extremes,  such  as  sticking  pins,  throw- 
ing stones,  playing  pranks  with  furniture,  and  other 
petty  annoyances,  altogether  beneath  the  dignity  of 
supernatural  agency.  It  was  in  fact  the  sublime  of 
the  ridiculous,  and  would  have  been  the  broadest  of 
farces,  had  it  not  ended  in  the  deepest  of  tragedies. 
The  gambols  of  superstition  are  like  the  festivals  of 
the  savages,  where  human  victims  are  offered  up  to 
flames  and  torture.  Like  the  fabled  Ogre,  its  gigan- 
tic deformity  would  excite  only  contempt  and  scorn, 
did  it  not  prey  on  human  flesh,  and  banquet  on  human 
blood. 

It  was  not  long  after  the  arrival  of  the  new  rein- 
forcement to  the  settlement,  before  it  began  to  be 
whispered  that  witchcraft  was  abroad  among  them. 
Many  strange  things  happened,  or  were  said  to  happen, 
which  could  not  be  accounted  for  in  a  natural  way. 
Invisible  hands  perpetrated  invisible  outrages,  such  as 
pelting  honest  people  with  stones  at  night ;  setting  the 
frying  pans  to  ringing  profane  and  diabolical  tunes ; 
upsetting  milk  pans  ;  bewitching  the  tongs,  so  that  it 
opened  when  it  ought  to  have  shut,  and  shut  when  it 
should  have  opened ;  together  with  various  other  mis- 
chievous devices,  such  as  witches  practice  as  it  were 
without  any  other  object  than  the  gratification  of  a 
perverse,  malignant  spirit.  In  cases  of  this  kind,  there 
can  be  little  doubt,  that  the  love  of  mischief  incites 
many  persons  to  perpetrate  various  pranks,  or  that 
others  wreak  their  secret  spite  under  the  cover  of  the 
prevailing  delusion. 


THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS    DAUGHTER.  189 

Tobias  Harpsfield  was  among  the  early  victims  of 
fiendish  malignity.  He  now  first  began  to  luxuriate 
in  the  conception  of  a  plot  wjiich  time  will  develope  ; 
and  it  behooved  him  to  spread  the  infection  of  witch- 
craft by  every  means  in  his  power.  Accordingly, 
there  was  not  a  night  passed  that,  if  you  would  believe 
him,  he  was  not  grievously  assaulted  or  persecuted, 
by  one  or  more  of  these  invisible  demons.  Sometimes 
he  would  be  aroused  by  a  box  on  the  ear ;  sometimes 
while  sitting  at  a  window,  it  would  come  slamming 
down  on  his  head  ;  at  one  time  his  hat  was  blown  off, 
though  there  was  not  a  breath  of  air  stirring :  at 
others  he  heard  horrible  bursts  of  laughter  close  to  his 
ear  while  saying  his  prayers ;  and  more  than  once  he 
was  waked  up  at  night  by  the  sticking  of  pins,  though 
as  yet  he  could  find  none  in  his  flesh,  nor  detect  any 
mark  of  the  infliction.  People  began  to  stare  and 
wonder  at  Tobias  ;  he  had  become  a  subject  of  super- 
natural agency,  and  partook  in  the  awful  and  mysteri- 
ous dignity  of  his  persecutors.  Thus  he  continued  for 
a  time  to  feed  the  growing  panic,  until  a  few  recent 
examples  of  perverse  action  in  this  matter  caused  him 
to  apprehend  that  he  might,  by  some  strange  process  of 
reasoning,  be  converted  from  a  victim  into  an  accom- 
plice, and  from  this  time  his  persecutions  miraculously 
ceased. 


CHAPTER     XVI. 

Progress  of  a  Panic — Ingenious  Device  of  Master  Tobias  Harpsfield 
for  Winning  a  Wife— Description  of  a  First-Rate  Witch— Miriam 
Accused  of  Witchcraft.  , 

THE  progress  of  a  panic  is  like  that  of  a  pestilence. 
It  is  conceived  in  obscurity ;  it  walketh  in  darkness, 
and  is  communicated  from  one  to  another  by  a  process 
equally  rapid  and  inscrutable.  No  sooner  had  the  ap- 
prehension of  witchcraft  fastened  on  the  minds  of  the 
people,  than  its  existence  became  hourly  demonstrated 
by  new  and  extraordinary  appearances.  The  human 
mind  delights  in  the  wonderful,  and  there  is  a  period 
in  the  progress  of  terror  which  affords  a  strange  grati- 
fication. Thus  every  day  brought  forth  new  evidence 
of  witchcraft.  The  weak,  the  superstitious,  the  mis- 
chievous and  the  designing,  all  united  in  contributions 
to  the  common  stock,  until  a  mass  of  facts,  sufficient 
to  overwhelm  the  most  skeptical,  was  accumulated. 
Reports  without  father  or  mother,  and  coming  from 
no  one  knew  whither,  followed  at  the  heels  of  each 
other.  At  one  time  there  came  a  tale  of  a  woman  liv- 
ing at  a  sufficient  distance  to  afford  space  for  rumors  to 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS   DAUGHTER.  191 

expatiate  in,  who,  in  the  phrase  of  the  time,  "  Belched 
out  nefarious  blasphemies,"  without  moving  her  tongue ; 
next  came  the  rumor  of  a  man  being  beaten  almost  to 
death  by  an  invisible  fist ;  another  was  bruised  black 
and  blue  with  corn  cobs,  and  had  his  barn  set  on  fire 
by  means  he  could  not  discover ;  another,  in  going  into 
his  field,  was  saluted  with  a  shower  of  stones  that 
knocked  him  down  and  bruised  him  sorely,  though  no 
marks  could  be  seen  on  his  body;  another  had  his 
milk  skimmed  every  night,  and  his  cheese  turned  into 
buttermilk.  But  this  was  not  the  worst ;  a  select 
man,  famous  for  "  devotion,  sanctity  and  gravity,  was 
murdered  with  an  hideous  witchcraft ;"  and  to  cap  the 
climax  of  rumors,  little  children  "  fell  into  fits  that 
carried  with  them  something  diabolical."  In  short, 
there  was  no  cessation  to  these  reports  of  wonders, 
that,  even  if  true,  might  have  been  easily  accounted 
for  without  resorting  to  supernatural  agency. 

As  yet,  however,  the  public  suspicion  had  not  con- 
centrated itself  on  any  one  particular  object.  •  But 
fear  is  nearly  allied  to  cruelty,  and  must  have  its 
victims.  "We  may  perhaps  trace  much  of  the  blood 
shed  by  tyrants  to  their  apprehensions  of  the  people. 
Old,  ugly,  and  decrepid  women,  though  at  other  times 
neglected  and  forgotten,  are  sure  to  figure  in  the  van 
when  witchcraft  is  rife  in  the  laud.  The  more  poor, 
helpless,  and,  above  all,  ugly  and  decrepid,  the  greater 
the  probability  in  the  mind  of  a  philosophical  adept  in 
the  science,  that  they  have  entered  into  a  compact 
with  the  arch  enemy,  not  for  the  rational  purpose  of 


192  THE    PURITAN  ~AND   HIS   DAUGHTER. 

improving  their  own  condition,  but  merely  to  obtain 
the  power  of  tormenting  little  children,  by  way  of 
amusement. 

Just  at  the  base  of  the  mountain  heretofore  spoken 
of,  and  about  a  mile  from  the  village,  dwelt  an  aged 
Dutch  woman,  who  had,  when  quite  young,  been 
captured  by  the  Indians  of  the  Manhadoes  in  one  of 
their  incursions ;  and  through  a  series  of  strange  vicis- 
situdes, not  altogether  uncommon  in  those  days  of 
veritable  romance,  found  her  way  at  length  to  the 
little  settlement,  where  she  was  permitted  to  build  a 
hut,  on  the  skirts  of  a  wood  that  clothed  the  base  of 
the  mountain.  She  had  resided  here  a  twelvemonth 
or  more,  with  no  companion  but  a  cat,  the  color  of 
which  it  is  impossible  to  state  positively,  at  this  dis- 
tance of  time.  None  knew  how  she  lived,  and  the 
reason  was,  none  cared,  except  Miriam,  who  could 
have  explained  the  mystery  had  she  chosen.  This  old 
vrouw  was  eminently  qualified  for  a  witch,  having  not 
the  least  pretensions  to  beauty.  Homely  in  her  youth, 
the  hardships  and  exposures  endured  in  the  progress  of 
her  captivity  among  the  savages,  together  with  the 
deep  scar  of  a  tomahawk  across  her  cheek,  had  given 
her  face  a  savage  expression,  exceedingly  harsh  and 
disagreeable.  Besides  this,  she  lived  alone  with  her 
cat,  and  apparently  shunned  all  communication  with 
her  fellow-creatures.  The  natural  conclusion  was, 
that  her  principal  associates  were  among  the  spirits  of 
darkness.  In  fine,  she  was  old,  ugly,  and  poor  ;  her 
dialect  was  a  farrago  of  Dutch,  Indian,  and  English  ; 


THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS    DAUGHTER.  193 

she  walked  with  a  stick,  was  almost  bent  double,  and 
had  a  cat.     Could  any  one  doubt  her  vocation  ? 

One  of  the  extraordinary  features  of  witchcraft  is 
the  agency  of  young  children,  at  least  such  was  the 
3ase  here.  They  were  among  the  principal,  and  some- 
times the  only  witnesses,  on  whose  testimony  more 
than  one  person  was  condemned  to  death  and  executed, 
at  different  places,  during  the  prevalence  of  this  moral 
pestilence.  "Whether  these  children  were  themselves 
the  dupes  of  their  own  fears  or  fancy,  or  tutored  by 
others  more  artful  than  themselves ;  or  whether  they 
were  instigated  by  the  vanity  of  making  themselves 
the  objects  of  universal  wonder,  cannot  be  known  at 
this  day.  But  strange  as  maybe  either  of  these  suppo- 
sitions, they  are  not  half  so  improbable  as  that  they  were 
really  under  the  influence  of  supernatural  agency. 
Be  this  as  it  may,  about  this  time  a  pair  of  these  little 
imps,  who  were  unquestionably  under  some  evil 
influence  or  other,  became  infected  with  the  mania. 
They  fell  into  strange  convulsions,  uttered  equally 
strange  exclamations,  and  indulged  in  divers  inimitable 
contortions,  during  the  intervals  of  which  they  would 
cry  out,  that  the  Old  Cat — as  the  old  woman,  whose 
name  was  Catalina,  was  generally  called — was  either 
scratching,  or  choking,  or  sticking  pins  into  them. 
Having  repeated  this  execrable  farce  several  times, 
with  additional  extravagances,  the  magistrates  being 
made  acquainted  with  the  facts,  assembled  together, 
and  after  grave  deliberation,  decided  to  have  Old  Cat 

VOL.  n.        9 


194  THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS   DAUGHTER. 

apprehended,  and  brought  before  them  for  examina- 
tion. 

Accordingly,  the  devoted  old  woman  made  her  debut 
in  charge  of  three  constables,  two  of  whom  had  been 
expressly  installed  for  this  purpose,  as  no  single  one  of 
them  was  hardy  enough  to  venture  alone  into  her 
premises.  After  hearing  the  accusation,  of  which  the 
poor  old  creature  scarcely  comprehended  one  word,  she 
was  strictly  interrogated  on  the  subject,  and  poured 
forth  an  unintelligible  jargon  of  Dutch,  Indian, 
and  broken  English,  at  which  the  worshipful  bench 
was  utterly  confounded.  They  understood  no  more  of 
her  defence  than  she  did  of  the  accusation,  and  solved 
the  mystery  by  pronouncing  it  the  language  of  the 
devil,  without  a  dissenting  voice.  She  was  then  con- 
fronted with  her  supposed  victims,  who  were  seized 
with  still  more  violent  paroxysms  in  her  presence,  and 
this  being  deemed  decisive,  she  was  committed  to 
prison  to  await  her  trial  at  an  early  day. 

It  was  at  this  crisis,  that  Master  Tobias  Harpsfield 
thought  he  perceived  a  fair  opportunity  of  either  re- 
venging himself  for  his  double  dismissal,  or  forcing 
Miriam  into  his  arms  for  protection.  He  had  been 
meditating  his  plan  for  some  months,  and  gradually 
familiarized  himself  to  its  mean,  malignant  atrocity ; 
for  every  time  the  idea  of  meditated  guilt  occurs  to 
the  mind,  it  comes  shorn  of  some  of  its  most  revolt- 
ing features.  His  plan  was  to  cause  the  poor,  unpro- 
tected  girl  to  be  accused  of  witchcraft,  which  would 
certainly  result  in  one  of  two  consequences.  Either 


THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS    DAUGHTER.  195 

she  would  become  an  object  of  universal  fear  and  ab- 
horrence, or  be  committed  to  prison  for  trial.  In  either 
case,  by  friendly  attentions,  by  interfering  in  her  be- 
half, and  procuring  her  release  in  the  last  extremity, 
as  he  had  no  doubt  he  could,  he  might  so  work  on  her 
gratitude,  if  not  her  affections,  that  she  would  be  ulti- 
mately wrought  upon  to  give  him  her  hand,  which 
being  well  filled,  he  coveted  most  egregiously.  Thus 
the  wily  deceiver  deceived  himself;  for  little  did  he 
anticipate  the  tenacity  with  which  the  fatal  sisters, 
Bigotry  and  Superstition,  would  cling  to  their  victims. 
But  being  a  man  of  great  weight  and  influence  both 
in  Church  and  State,  he  flattered  himself  that  his  in- 
terference could  at  any  time  be  successful,  and  his 
first  step  was  procuring  an  interview  with  Old  Cat, 
which  he  did  without  difficulty,  though  the  jailer 
looked  at  him  with  astonishment,  and  ever  after 
quoted  him  as  a  model  of  heroism,  in  thus  venturing 
alone  into  the  presence  of  a  veritable  imp  of  Satan. 

He  found  the  desolate  old  crone  smoking  the  stump 
of  a  short  black  pipe,  though  this  was  in  direct  contra- 
vention of  the  regulations  of  the  prison.  But  she 
insisted,  and  the  jailer  was  fain  to  comply,  least  she 
should  exercise  some  of  her  diabolical  art  on  his  person. 
By  her  side  sate  the  cat,  which  had  followed  to  the 
jail,  and  entered  with  her,  in  spite  of  the  opposition  of 
the  said  jailer,  which,  however,  was  not  very  energe- 
tic, as  he  was  extremely  shy  of  what  he  verily  believed 
was  the  Familiar  Spirit.  Tobias,  having  occasionally 
visited  New  Amsterdam  in  his  speculating  excursions, 


196  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

had  picked  up  a  smattering  of  Dutch,  which  aided  by 
his  knowledge  of  some  Indian  dialects  acquired  while 
a  trader,  enabled  him  to  understand,  and  be  understood 
by  the  old  woman-originally  without  education,  and 
having  nearly  lost  all  perception  of  the  distinction 
between  right  and  wrong,  by  years  of  miserable  sojourn 
among  savages,  who  could  teach  her  little  but  rapine 
and  murder,  the  poor  creature  was  but  a  passive 
instrument  in  the  hands  of  the  tempter. 

He  first  worked  on  her  fears,  by  assuring  her  she 
would  be  burnt  alive,  with  such  tortures  as  she  had 
seen  the  savages  inflict  on  their  prisoners ;  and  having 
thus  frightened  her  almost  out  of  her  wits,  cautiously 
insinuated  that  the  only  possible  mode  of  escaping  this 
terrible  fate  was,  to  accuse  some  person  of  having 
betwitched  her,  by  which  means  she  might  cast  the 
guilt  from  her  own  head  on  that  of  another.  It  is 
equally  painful  and  disgusting  to  trace,  step  by  step, 
the  arts  of  a  cunning  and  malicious  villain ;  and  with- 
out proceeding  any  further  in  detail,  or  specifying  by 
what  windings  the  serpent  at  length  circumvented  his 
prey,  it  will  be  sufficient  to  say,  that  by  practising 
alternately  on  her  fears  of  punishment  and  hope  of 
reward,  he  succeeded  in  bringing  the  poor  stultified 
being  to  his  purposes.  The  plan  was  quite  simple. 
"When  brought  to  trial,  she  was  to  pretend  to  fall  into 
convulsions,  howl  like  the  savages,  and  ever  and  anon 
screech  forth  the  name  of  Miriam  Habingdon,  as  the 
instrument  of  all  her  sufferings.  Alas!  for  human 
nature  !  Miriam  was  her  benefactress.  In  justice, 


THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS    DAUGHTER.  197 

however,  to  Old  Cat,  she  demurred  stoutly  to  this  last 
act  of  the  farce,  until  Tobias  solemnly  assured  her  he 
would  take  especial  care  that  no  harm  should  happen 
to  the  young  lady. 

Thus  tutored,  and  having  thoroughly  learned  and 
practiced  her  lesson,  Old  Cat  was  in  good  time  brought 
forth  for  trial.  In  her  progress  from  the  jail  to  the 
room  in  which  the  court  was  sitting,  she  performed  all 
sorts  of  violent  antics  ;  imitated  the  most  extravagant 
gestures  of  the  savages  in  their  dances,  their  shouts, 
and  their  howlings ;  and  after  going  through  a  series 
of  almost  supernatural  contortions,  ever  and  anon 
screeched  forth  the  name  of  Miriam  Habingdon,  who, 
she  said,  was  thus  tormenting  her.  The  court  was 
brought  to  a  stand ;  the  spectators  stood  aghast  at  this 
denunciation  of  one  hitherto  believed  of  so  blameless  a 
life,  so  innocent  of  all  offence  against  her  fellow-crea- 
tures. Hitherto  the  accusations  of  witchcraft  had  been 
confined  to  persons  of  suspicious  character  and  low 
station,  whose  habits  of  life  or  obscurity  of  position 
afforded  at  least  some  pretext  for  persecution.  But  now 
it  seemed  that  the  great  enemy  of  man  was  aiming  at 
higher  conquests,  and  that  none  might  expect  to  escape 
his  snares.  The  panic  became  more  intense ;  and 
that  purity  of  life  ard  character  which  ought  to  have 
shielded  Miriam  from  suspicion,  only  operated  to  raise 
her  into  an  object  of  increasing  horror  ;  for  such  was 
the  besotted  state  of  the  community,  that  had  an  angel 
descended  from  Heaven,  his  divine  mission  would 
scarcely  have  protected  him  from  being  mistaken  for 


198  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

the  Spirit  of  Darkness  in  disguise.  The  old  woman 
was  remanded  to  prison,  rather  as  a  witness  than  a 
criminal ;  and  though  the  judges  were  neither  brutes 
nor  hypocrites,  such  was  the  delusion  under  which  they 
labored,  that  after  mature  deliberation,  a  warrant  was 
issued  for  the  apprehension  of  Miriam  Habingdon,  on 
a  charge  of  witchcraft. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

Miriam  Examined  before  the  Magistrates  and  Committed  to  Prison  on 
the  Evidence  of  Old  Cat— Visit  of  Condolence  by  Tobias  Harpsfield 
and  its  Consequences — Trial  and  Condemnation  on  the  Testimony  of 
the  Devil. 

OUR  heroine  was  more  astonished  than  dismayed  on 
the  receipt  of  a  summons  to  attend  the  magistrates  on 
a  charge  of  witchcraft,  a  crime  the  existence  of  which 
she  utterly  disbelieved.  Conscious  of  her  innocence, 
she  suffered  herself  to  be  led  an  unresisting  victim, 
little  aware  that  neither  innocence  would  avail,  or 
humanity  interpose  to  shield  her  from  a  whirlwind  that 
was  sweeping  down  all  the  barriers  of  common  sense, 
and  human  feeling.  She  appeared  before  the  magis- 
trates, with  all  the  quiet  self-possession  of  conscious 
innocence ;  but  such  was  the  revolution  in  public 
opinion  which  a  few  hours  had  produced,  that  a  major- 
ity of  the  spectators  pronounced  her  demeanor  nothing 
more  than  a  hardened  insensibility,  indicating  the  last 
hopeless  stage  of  guilt. 

Schooled  by  Tobias  Harpsfield,  Old  Cat,  after  a 
preliminary  exhibition  of  writhings,  screechings,  con- 
tortions, and  convulsions,  told  the  usual  tale  of  beat- 
ing, pinching,  strangling,  and  sticking  pins,  all  which 


200  THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS   DAUGHTER. 

she  ascribed  to  Miriam,  who,  though  at  these  times 
invisible  to  others,  she  recognized  as  her  tormentor. 
When  this  deplorable  farce  was  concluded,  the  crimi- 
nal being  asked  what  she  had  to  say  in  her  defence, 
simply  and  solemnly  protested  her  innocence,  and 
concluded  by  suggesting  the  propriety  of  establishing 
the  existence  of  witchcraft,  before  they  punished  the 
witches.  This  insinuation  operated  greatly  against 
her,  as  it  clearly  indicated  that  both  magistrates  and 
people  were  equally  under  the  influence  of  a  delusion. 
This  cut  rather  too  deep.  Already  two  victims  had 
been  sacrificed  on  the  altar  of  superstition,  and  every 
mind  revolted  from  the  very  possibility  of  their  having 
been  unjustly  punished.  It  was  necessary  to  believe, 
in  order  to  quiet  their  consciences.  In  addition  to 
this,  one  of  the  magistrates,  who  had  specially  distin- 
guished himself  in  the  crusade  against  witchcraft,  felt 
himself  personally  insulted  by  this  insinuation,  which, 
moreover,  savored  of  downright  heresy.  The  belief  in 
witchcraft  had  become  in  some  measure  a  test  of 
orthodoxy,  being  not  only  sustained  by  the  example  of 
the  Witch  of  Endor,  but  by  the  precepts  of  the  new 
pastor,  who  had  come  from  the  very  hot-bed  of  witch- 
craft. Strange  as  it  may  seem,  he  was  a  liberal 
scholar  and  a  pious  divine,  though  deeply  infected  with 
bigotry,  the  besetting  sin  of  that  age.  Without  doubt 
he  had  a  thorough  conviction  of  the  existence  of  witch- 
craft ;  but  he  deceived  himself,  and  what  is  worse,  he 
deceived  others.  In  truth,  such  was  the  miserable 
infatuation  that  pervaded  all  classes,  men,  women, 


THE    PURITAN   AND    HIS   DAUGHTER.  201 

children,  clergymen  and  magistrates,  learned  and 
ignorant,  that  while  the  panic  raged,  to  be  accused  of 
witchcraft  was  the  certain  prelude  to  imprisonment  or 
death.  This  terrible  delusion  led  into  a  labyrinth  of 
error  and  iniquity,  which  cannot  be  excused  on  any 
plea  of  sincerity ;  and,  however  unpalatable  may  be  a 
reference  to  the  subject,  it  should  be  for  ever  preserved 
in  our  remembrance  as  a  solemn  warning  against 
superstition  in  all  its  forms,  and  under  every  disguise. 
It  is  a  hideous,  bloody,  remorseless  fiend,  and  with  its 
twin-sister  bigotry,  richly  merits  an  association  with 
war,  pestilence,  and  famine. 

The  blamelessness  of  her  past  life,  the  solemn  asser- 
tion of  her  innocence,  the  calm  self-possession  of  her 
manner,  availed  nothing  against  the  absurd  declara- 
tions and  extravagant  contortions  of  the  old  woman, 
who  really  exhibited  a  pantomime  that  seemed  to 
savor  of  supernatural  suppleness  and  activity.  Miriam 
was  committed  to  prison,  where  she  remained  in  soli- 
tude, avoided  by  all.  Even  Mildred,  a  firm  believer 
in  witchcraft,  was  afraid  to  come  near  her  young  mis- 
tress, lest  she  herself  should  be  infected ;  and  though 
she  took  good  care  to  supply  her  with  all  she  required, 
never  ventured  inside  of  the  prison  door.  She  had 
nursed  Miriam  from  the  cradle,  loved  her  with  all  her 
heart,  and  it  is  probable  would  have  died  for  her ;  but 
there  was  something  in  this  diabolical  communion  so 
horribly  revolting,  that  the  pious  old  soul  recoiled  in 
disgust  whenever  she  thought  of  her  former  nursling. 
Thus  was  poor  Miriam  deserted  by  all  the  little  world 
9* 


202  THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS   DAUGHTER. 

around  her,  and  left  with  no  other  stay  than  that  of 
conscious  innocence. 

It  was  now  that  the  very  devout  Tobias  Harpsfield, 
who  boasted  that  he  had  never  laughed  nor  eaten  a  hot 
dinner  on  Sabbath  day ;  who  never  violated,  or  at  least 
was  caught  in  violating  the  law ;  and  who  was  approved 
by  all  his  more  respectable  neighbors,  a  good  man  and 
a  worthy  citizen — it  was  now  that  he  brought  his  . 
machinery  into  play  to  win  4he  last  cast.  He  paid 
Miriam  a  visit,  and  such  was  the  desolation  of  her 
soul,  such  the  depression  of  the  lonely  and  deserted 
maiden,  such  the  feeling  of  utter  abandonment  that 
crushed  her  to  the  earth,  that  even  his  presence  was 
not  unwelcome.  To  the  solitary  prisoner,  condemned 
to  pass  the  livelong  day  in  idleness,  without  a  visitor, 
and  without  a  resource  except  in  melancholy  thoughts 
of  the  past,  or  gloomy  forebodings  of  what  is  to  come, 
the  presence  of  anything  breathing  of  life  is  grateful. 
A  spider  weaving  his  web,  or  a  mouse  sporting  in  the 
silence  of  the  scene,  is  hailed  as  a  companion,  where 
all  around  is  one  dread  vacuity. 

During  the  interim  between  the  committal  and  trial 
of  Miriam,  Tobias  repeated  his  visits,  confining  him- 
self to  reflections  on  her  situation,  and  suggestions  of 
the  best  means  for  relief,  without  the  slightest  allusion 
to  his  ultimate  object.  Miriam  began  to  believe  he 
was  indeed  a  friend,  and  her  heart  smote  her  for  her 
former  prejudices.  At  length  being  pressed  for  time, 
as  the  trial  was  now  approaching,  he  took  occasion  to 
apprise  her,  with  an  air  of  peculiar  satisfaction,  that  in 


THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS    DAUGHTER.  203 

the  course  of  his  indefatigable  inquiries  in  her  behalf 
he  had,  he  believed,  gained  a  clue,  which,  if  properly 
followed  up,  would  either  result  in  her  immediate 
release,  or  subsequent  acquittal.  Having  thus  awaken- 
ed a  hope,  he  indirectly  and  cautiously  insinuated 
her  forlorn  and  desolate  situation,  without  parent, 
brother,  or  friend,  other  than  himself;  and  concluded 
by  suggesting,  that  under  the  avowed  and  lawful 
protection  of  a  man  of  weight  and  influence  in  the 
community,  especially  in  the  church,  she  would 
undoubtedly  be  shielded  from  all  further  persecution. 
He  was  proceeding  with  all  the  caution  of  an  expe- 
rienced hunter,  circling  around  his  game  and  gradually 
approaching  nearer  and  nearer ;  and  had  gone  so  far 
as  to  intimate  he  thought  it  possible,  nay,  was  almost 
sure,  he  had  sufficient  influence  over  old  Catalina  to 
induce  her  to  retract  her  absurd  accusation.  But 
Miriam,  at  once  divining  his  purpose,  suddenly  inter- 
rupted him  with  deep  emotion,  exclaiming — 

"Enough — enough,  Master  Harpsfield ;  I  compre- 
hend thee  now !  But  I  am  already  wedded — I  belong 
to  the  dead.  Spare  me  any  more  words  on  the  subject. 
Thou  hast  been  kind  to  me  when  no  others  showed  me 
kindness,  and  I  had  become  grateful.  But  I  now  see 
thine  object,  and  to  arrest  it  for  ever,  know  that  I  had 
rather,  ten  times  rather,  meet  the  doom  prepared  for 
those  accused  of  witchcraft,  than  pledge  my  faith  to 
a  man  mean  enough  to  take  advantage  of  my  wretched 
condition  for  his  own  selfish  purposes.  Spare  me,  I 
pray  thee,  and  let  me  die  in  peace,  if  such  is  Heaven's 


204  THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS    DAUGHTER. 

decree.  Death  will  not  sever  me  from  my  world,  bu' 
unite  me  to  all  I  have  loved  here." 

Tobias  departed,  but  not  in  despair.  "  The  time,' 
thought  he,  "  is  not  yet  come.  Even  the  weak  and 
wicked  defy  death  at  a  distance,  believing  themselves 
beyond  reach  of  his  dart.  We  shall  see,  when  he  stares 
her  full  in  the  face.  The  next  time  she  shall  ask  me 
to  marry  her." 

The  court  was  now  convened,  and  the  day  at  length 
came  which  was  to  decide  the  fate  of  the  lonely  orphan. 
The  place  was  crowded  with  awe-stricken  spectators, 
drawn  thither  by  that  strange  fascination  which  terror 
exercises  over  the  human  mind.  The  magistrates  took 
their  seats  on  either  hand  of  the  presiding  judge,  and 
to  give  additional  solemnity  to  this  mockery  of  justice, 
the  pastor  of  the  flock,  in  his  clerical  robes,  was  com- 
plimented with  a  seat  on  the  bench.  The  crime  of 
witchcraft  was  considered  of  a  mixed  nature,  involving 
an  offence  as  well  against  the  civil  as  the  ecclesiastical 
law,  and  more  properly  under  the  jurisdiction  of  the 
spiritual  courts.  But  nothing  of  this  kind  existed 
here,  and  criminals  of  this  class  were  left  to  the  civil 
authority, 

Miriam  appeared  with  all  the  calm  confidence  ol 
conscious  innocence,  though  trembling  with  that  dead- 
ly  weakness,  which  is  the  result  of  a  long  harrassed 
mind,  sinking  under  its  own  resistance  of  calamity. 
After  the  old  woman  had  gone  through  another  rehear- 
sal of  her  lesson,  and  detailed  all  the  stupendous  absur- 
dities of  her  story,  in  a  language  which  added  new 


THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS   DAUGHTER.  205 

horrors  to  the  tale,  by  its  obscurity,  Miriam  was 
permitted  to  cross-examine  her.  She  calmly  ques- 
tioned her  as  to  their  previous  intercourse,  and  her 
own  objects  in  visiting  the  hut.  But  here  Old  Cat 
could  neither  understand  or  be  understood.  She 
answered  only  by  a  mixed  jargon  of  all  the  dialects  of 
which  she  had  a  smattering,  and  which  was  again 
pronounced  by  the  hearers  to  be  the  language  of  the 
Evil  Spirit  himself.  When  called  on  for  her  defence, 
the  mind  of  Miriam  rose  with  the  occasion,  and  there 
suddenly  shone  forth  over  her  face  an  expression  of 
sublime  innocence,  visible  to  all,  but  which,  in  these 
besotted  times,  was  held  to  be  only  one  of  the  cunning 
expedients  of  the  Great  Tempter  to  impose  on  the  peo- 
ple, hoodwink  the  eyes  of  justice,  and  screen  his 
bondslaves  from  merited  punishment.  She  spoke  like 
one  inspired ;  she  sketched  the  character  of  her 
parents,  their  sufferings  and  their  exile  for  their  faith, 
together  with  her  own  education  and  habits  of  life,  and 
concluded  as  follows — 

"  As  for  my  occasional  visits  to  that  poor,  mistaken, 
or  misled  woman — though  aware  that  errands  of  bene- 
volence should  be  in  secret — I  feel  now  called  upon  to 
declare  that  they  were  visits  of  charity.  The  precepts 
of  my  parents  taught  me  there  were  occasions  when 
the  right  hand  should  not  know  the  doings  of  the  left ; 
but  there  are  also  occasions,  I  trust,  when  good  deeds 
may  be  brought  forward  to  meet  unjust  accusations. 
I  sought,  this  woman,  not  to  exercise  over  her  that 
power  which,  I  believe,  was  never  yet  delegated 


206  THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS    DAUGHTER. 

to  the  wicked,  here  the  pastor  threw  up  his  eyes 
and  hands — "  but  to  administer  to  her  necessities  by 
such  relief  as  they  seemed  to  require.  I  do  not  know 
whether  she  is  herself  deceived,  or  is  deceiving  others. 
I  do  not  know  whether  she  is  the  instrument  of  her 
own  depraved  heart,  or  of  some  one  still  more  depraved. 
There  is  but  one  person  living" — and  here  she  cast  her 
eyes  on  Tobias  Harpsfield,  who  was  present — "I  at 
least  know  of  but  one  person  living  whom  I  have 
offended.  But  I  accuse  no  one,  because  I  have 
nothing  but  suspicion  to  support  my  accusation.  If 
innocent,  God  pardon  my  suspicions— if  guilty,  God 
pardon  him."  Here  Tobias  twitched  his  eyebrows  a 
little,  but  stood  his  ground  manfully — "I  would  not 
unjustly  accuse  him,  but  I  cannot  but  see  the  hand  of 
some  one  more  cunning  than  this  wretched  woman,  in 
this  plot  against  my  life  and  my  good  name.  "Who- 
ever it  may  be,  that  hath  thus  selected  from  all  the 
rest  of  the  world  a  desolate  orphan,  standing  alone 
among  strangers,  without  a  friend  above  ground,  save 
one  who  is  above  all,  as  the  object  of  a  loathsome 
calumny,  I  do  not  envy  him  his  feelings,  though  he 
may  succeed  in  bringing  me  to  a  disgraceful  death,  a 
memory  abhorred  by  all,  and  subject  me,  while  living, 
to  imprisonment,  derision,  and  disgrace."  Here  Tobias 
was  seized  with  a  sudden  bleeding  at  the  nose,  and 
placing  his  handkerchief  to  his  nostrils,  departed  in 
haste.  "  But,"  continued  Miriam — "  I  feel  that  my 
days  of  humiliation  and  sorrow  are  drawing  to  a  close, 
and  that  I  am  about  to  become  one  of  the  many  vie- 


THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS   DAUGHTER.  207 

tims  of  men  bewildered  by  the  strange  revelations  of  a 
fantastic  madness,  which,  when  it  subsides,  will  cause 
all  those  who  have  dipped  their  hands  in  blood  at  its 
bidding,  to  shudder  at  the  recollection.  lean  but 
solemnly  declare  I  am  innocent — I  have  no  witnesses 
to  prove  it,  but  Him  who  sees  and  knows  all  things, 
even  the  deepest  secrets  of  the  heart.  If  acquitted,  I 
shall  be  grateful ;  if  condemned,  I  shall  hope  hereafter 
for  that  mercy  denied  me  here." 

As  she  concluded,  the  pastor,  a  weak,  but  well- 
meaning  man,  deeply  infected  with  the  mania  of  the 
times,  said  to  the  magistrates  in  an  under  tone — 

"  Verily  how  artfully  Satan  can  clothe  his  followers, 
even  so  as  to  convert  the  blackness  of  guilt  into  the 
whiteness  of  innocence.  Of  a  truth,  it  is  high  time  to 
be  stirring,  when  the  spirits  of  darkness  walk  forth 
among  us  in  the  disguise  of  spirits  of  light." 

When  such  was  the  prevailing  sentiment  of  all  pre- 
sent, it  is  needless  to  say,  that  the  innocent  girl  was 
pronounced  guilty  of  witchcraft,  and  ordered  for  execu- 
tion at  the  expiration  of  a  brief  period,  lest  she  should 
indulge  a  spirit  of  vengeance  at  the  expense  of  the 
community.  Miriam  was  silent;  she  cast  her  eyes 
towards  Heaven,  folded  her  arms  across  her  bosom, 
and  bowed  submissively,  as  she  was  led  back  to  prison. 
There  being  some  difference  of  opinion  in  the  Court,  as 
to  the  final  disposal  of  Old  Cat,  she  was,  greatly  to 
her  disgust  and  disappointment,  also  remanded  to  jail. 
She  had  been  assured  by  Tobias,  that  her  discharge 
would  take  place  immediately  on  the  condemnation 


208  THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS    DAUGHTER. 

of  Miriam,  and,  for  his  own  sake,  he  had  earnestly 
exerted  himself  to  make  good  his  promise.  But  on 
application  to  the  magistrates  he  found  to  his  equal 
surprise  and  dismay,  that  though  they  had  received 
her  testimony  against  the  life  of  another,  they  still 
believed  her  possessed,  and  consequently  had  con- 
demned poor  Miriam  to  death,  on  the  evidence  of  the 
Devil. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

The  Self-punishment  of  the  Guilty — An  Apparition — Exorcism  of 
Mildred  who  Joins  in  Accusing  her  Young  Mistress  of  Witchcraft — 
The  Ghost  Vanishes  suddenly,  but  shortly  Appears  again  to  Miriam 
— Particulars  of  the  Interview. 

TOBIAS  HARPSFIELD,  when  he  found  that  he  had  to- 
tally failed  in  his  matrimonial  schemes,  and  forced 
Miriam  into  the  grave  instead  of  the  bridal  bed,  began 
to  feel  the  consequences  which  never  fail  to  follow  in 
the  track  of  guilt,  even  in  this  world.  Though  mean, 
selfish  and  revengeful,  his  depravity  had  never  contem- 
plated reaching  the  life  of  his  victim  ;  and  when,  after 
exerting  all  his  influence  in  her  behalf  in  vain,  the 
conviction  came  over  him,  that  her  fate  could  only  be 
averted  by  a  miracle,  his  conscience,  not  yet  suffi- 
ciently hardened  to  the  guilt  of  blood,  became  his  accu- 
ser and  his  torment.  Though  not  actually  intentional, 
still  the  crime  was  the  direct  consequence  of  acts 
that  he  had  wilfully  committed ;  and  with  all  the  in- 
genuity of  his  self-love,  he  could  not  disguise  from 
himself  the  bitter  truth,  that  he  was  responsible  for 
all  consequences.  To  these  feelings  of  compunction 
was  added  the  apprehension  of  being  betrayed  by  Old 


210  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

Cat,  who  finding  his  promise  of  release  was  not  ful- 
filled, might,  and  probably  would,  in  revenge  for  the 
disappointment,  make  a  full  confession.  Thus  assailed 
on  one  hand  by  the  sting  of  guilt,  on  the  other  by  the 
fear  of  discovery,  he  found  no  rest  by  day  or  by  night, 
and  suffered  far  more  than  his  innocent  victim. 

He  continued  to  use  every  effort  in  behalf  of 
Miriam,  still  cherishing  a  hope  that  if  convinced  she 
owed  her  life  to  him,  gratitude  might  bestow  what  love 
had  denied.  But  all  his  exertions  failed  to  relax  the 
stern  decree  of  bigotry,  and  those  arts  which  had 
hitherto  enabled  him  to  compass  his  evil  designs,  failed 
to  accomplish  his  good  ones.  The  panic  had  now 
reached  its  crisis  ;  every  day  brought  forth  new 
rumors,  new  cases,  and  new  accusations ;  imposture 
became  more  bold  and  reckless ;  dupes  increased  with 
the  number  of  victims ;  and  in  proportion  to  the  ex- 
travagance of  the  charges  was  the  credulity  of  super- 
stition which  swallowed  every  absurdity.  A  state  of 
feeling  existed,  which,  had  it  not  so  often  been  exhibited 
in  the  history  of  men,  would  be  deemed  incredible. 

Many  of  the  accused  had  confessed  their  guilt,  in 
the  hope  of  pardon,  or  possibly  in  the  full  belief  that 
they  were  actually  possessed ;  and  it  was  considered 
infallible  proof  of  the  truth  of  the  accusations,  that 
they  tallied  exactly  with  the  confessions.  These  were 
taken  down  by  reverend  men,  who,  instead  of  exerting 
their  influence  in  allaying  the  ferment,  prostituted  it 
to  the  purposes  of  superstition  and  cruelty.  There  is 
reason  to  believe  that  in  many  cases  these  confessions 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS  DAUGHTER.  211 

were  greatly  exaggerated  by  those  who  recorded  them, 
and  who  at  the  same  time,  sought  to  give  these  stu- 
pendous absurdities,  the  stamp  of  truth,  by  reciting 
texts  from  holy  writ  to  their  purposes.  They  seized  on 
the  panic  as  a  favorable  predisposing  disposition  of  the 
human  mind  towards  religious  impressions ;  as  if  the 
dark  and  blood-stained  avenues  of  superstition  could 
ever  lead  to  the  realms  of  light. 

As  the  day  appointed  for  the  sacrifice  of  the  inno- 
cent maiden  at  the  shrine  of  a  bloody  and  remorseless 
delusion  drew  near,  Tobias  Harpsfield  became  every 
hour  more  intensely  beset  by  remorse  and  fear,  those 
twin  scourges  of  crime  that  always  hunt  in  couples. 
At  times,  his  better  feelings  prompted  him  to  make  a 
full  confession  in  private  to  the  pastor,  in  order  that  he 
might  exert  his  commanding  influence  in  behalf  of 
Miriam.  But  of  the  three  great  stages  of  reform — re- 
pentance, amendment,  and  atonement — he  had  only 
partially  attained  the  former ;  for  it  was  quite  certain 
he  was  as  much  influenced  by  fear  for  himself  as  com- 
passion for  another.  Pride,  which  often  keeps  men 
from  falling,  and  at  other  times  prevents  their  rising 
when  they  fall,  became  one  of  the  great  obstacles  to 
a  confession.  Having  long  forfeited  his  own  good 
opinion,  he  was  the  more  anxious  to  preserve  that  of 
his  neighbors,  not  only  as  a  homage  to  his  pride,  but  a 
spoke  in  the  wheel  of  fortune.  Thus  laboring  with 
the  wretched  indecision  of  conscious  guilt,  half  willing, 
half  opposed  to  making  reparation,  he  secluded  him- 
self almost  entirely  at  home,  under  pretence  of 


212  THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS    DAUGHTER. 

indisposition,  and  at  length  sought  to  escape  from  the 
consciousness  of  guilt,  or  the  fear  of  punishment,  by 
wandering  away  no  one  knew  whither.  But  he  could 
not  elude  himself,  and  became  every  hour  more  and 
more  the  victim  of  guilt,  remorse  and  fear. 

Let  us  leave  the  wretched  man  to  his  well-merited 
punishment,  and  return  to  those  more  deserving  of 
our  sympathy.  Poor  old  Mildred,  as  before  stated,  was 
a  devout  believer  not  only  in  witchcraft,  but  ghosts, 
fairies,  and  hobgoblins.  Though  from  sentiment  and 
habit,  she  loved  Miriam,  yet  had  she  such  a  religious 
horror,  such  a  mortal  antipathy  to  everything  in  any  way 
connected  with  the  agency  of  the  great  enemy  of  man, 
that  she  could  not  bring  herself  to  hold  communica- 
tion with  one  not  only  accused,  but  convicted  of  having 
entered  into  a  compact  with  himself,  or  any  of  his  imps 
of  darkness.  She,  therefore,  though  her  heart  yearned 
towards  her  young  mistress,'  avoided  all  contact ;  and 
though  she  once  or  twice  ventured  to  the  door  of  the 
prison,  recoiled  with  horror  from  entering.  She  spent 
much  of  her  time  in  praying  and  chaunting  hymns, 
and  though  her  voice  was  not  the  sweetest  in 
the  world,  yet  if  the  heart  be  in  tune  it  does  not  sig- 
nify. 

She  was  thus  employed  one  evening,  just  about  the 
twilight  hour,  with  her  eyes  shut  according  to  custom, 
and  moving  back  and  forth,  in  an  old  rocking-chair, 
when  she  was  roused  by  a  knock,  or  rather  gentle  tap 
at  the  the  door,  succeeded  by  the  sound  of  footsteps  in 
the  little  passage  that  led  to  where  she  was  sitting. 


THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS   DAUGHTER.  213 

As  the  footsteps  approached  still  nearer,  she  opened  her 
eye's,  gazed  for  a  moment  at  the  intruder,  uttered  a 
loud  scream,  and  attempted  to  run  out  of  the  room. 
But  the  figure  arrested  her  with  a  strong  grasp,  which 
made  her  shudder  to  the  very  marrow  of  her  bones. 
She  stood  trembling  and  panting  for  a  few  moments  in 
an  agony  of  fear,  and  then  screamed  out — 

"Let  me  go!  let  me  go!  You  are  dead,  you  are 
buried — your  flesh  is  crumbled  into  dust.  Your  hat 
was  found  floating  on  the  sea,  and  your  body  on  the 
shore.  You  are  dead  and  buried,  I  say,  and  you  ought 
to  be  ashamed  of  yourself  to  come  out  of  your  grave 
to  frighten  a  poor  lone  woman." 

"Mildred!  Mildred!"  answered  the  ghost,  still  hold- 
ing her  fast — "  don't  be  alarmed.*  I  am  neither  dsad 
nor  buried.  You  will  frighten  your  young  mistress. 
Where  is  she  ?  Is  she — is  she  living — is  she  married  ? 
Is  she  at  home  ?  "What  has  become  of  her,  that  I  see 
her  not  here  ?  Tell  me — tell  me,  where  is  Miriam." 

"She's  bewitched!"  screamed  Mildred — "she's 
turned  witch  herself,  and  bewitched  Old  Cat — she  's 
sold  herself  to  the  Evil  One,  and  is  married  to  Satan. 
She  sticks  pins  in  little  children — she  worries  old 
women — she  rides  on  a  broomstick,  and  is  to  be  burnt 
or  hanged  next  Friday!"  and  the  poor  old  soul  burst  into 
a  torrent  of  tears  at  the  thought  of  the  sad  fate  await- 
ing her  young  mistress.  Then,  as  her  fears  returned, 
she  struggled,  and  repeated — "  Let  me  go !  let  me  go ! 
Master  Langley,  if  it  is  really  you." 

This  information  went  like  an  icy  dagger  to  the 


214  THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS   DAUGHTER. 

heart  of  Langley  Tyringham,  for  he  it  was.  Unable 
to  support  himself,  he  let  go  Mildred's  hand,  sank  into 
a  chair,  and  covered  his  face.  Not  that  he  suspected 
poor  'Miriam  of  any  other  witchcraft  save  that  of 
ladies'  eyes,  or  believed  in  the  existence  of  such  dia- 
bolical compacts.  But  he  had  just  come  from  an 
infected  district,  and  seen  and  heard  enough  to  be 
assured,  that  however  absurd  or  monstrous  a  super- 
stition might  be,  it  was  no  laughing  matter.  He  at 
once  comprehended  the  dangerous  situation  of  Miriam, 
and  rousing  himself,  by  degrees  reassured  Mildred, 
from  whom  he  drew  a  full  account  of  what  has  already 
been  related.  Having  received  this,  he  rushed  towards 
the  prison,  regardless  or  perhaps  forgetful  of  the  effect 
of*his  sudden  appearance  before  one,  who  doubtless, 
like  Mildred,  believed  him  dead,  His  heart  melted 
into  a  feeling  of  inexpressible  tenderness,  the  joint 
issue  of  pity  and  love,  as  he  called  to  mind  her 
lonely,  desolate  condition,  for  he  had  learned  the  death 
of  her  parents  on  his  way. 

Arriving  at  the  prison,  it  was  with  much  difficulty  he 
procured  admittance.  But  the  jailer,  though  deeply 
affected  with  the  panic,  and.  its  attendant  inhumanity, 
was  naturally  of  a  kind  disposition,  and  being  told  by 
Langley  that  he  was  an  old  friend  come  from  a  far 
distance,  at  length  showed  him  into  the  gloomy  cham- 
ber occupied  by  the  orphan  girl.  He  entered  without 
noise,  and  without  being  observed  by  Miriam,  who  was 
sitting  at  a  grated  window,  which  looked  towards  the 
west,  as  if  contemplating  the  silent  change  from  the 


THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS   DAUGHTER.  215 

splendors  of  departing  day,  to  the  milder  beauties  of 
the  starry  night.  But  neither  her  heart  nor  her  eye 
was  fixed  on  the  scene.  Her  thoughts  were  far  away, 
among  the  memories  of  the  past,  the  anticipations  of 
the  future.  She  was  among  the  dead,  not  the  living, 
and  more  occupied  with  others  than  herself.  So  pro- 
found was  her  abstraction,  that  she  had  not  noticed 
either  the  opening  or  shutting  of  the  door,  for  no  hope 
ever  entered  there.  As  Langley  approached  close  to 
her,  she  became  conscious  of  the  presence  of  some  one, 
and  raising  her  eyes  she  distinguished  a  man  in  the 
waning  light.  She  passed  her  hand  convulsively  over 
her  brow,  looked  once  more,  and  casting  herself  for- 
ward with  a  heart-piercing  exclamation,  would  have 
fallen  on  the  floor  had  not  Langley  caught  her  in  his 
arms. 

Worn  down  by  her  sufferings,  both  mind  and  body 
gave  way,  and  for  awhile  she  lay  without  sense  or 
motion.  Gradually  the  voice  and  caresses  of  Langley 
recalled  her ;  and  opening  her  eyes,  she  said,  in  tones 
that  sank  into  the  inmost  depths  of  his  heart — 

"  Art  thou  come  from  thy  grave,  Langley,  to  accom- 
pany me  to  mine  ?" 

"  No,  my  beloved  Miriam,  I  am  come  to  move 
Heaven  and  earth  to  your  rescue." 

"  Ah !  why  didst  thou  come  ?  I  was  content  to  die 
when  I  thought  I  was  going  to  thee ;  but  now  I  shall 
shrink  from  death,  because  it  will  bring  about  our 
separation.  Oh !  that  I  could  have  died  ignorant  that 
thou  wert  living !" 


216  THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS    DAUGHTER 

"  You  are  sorry,  then,  that  I  am  alive  ?"  said  he,  in 
tones  of  deep  mortification,  while  he  withdrew  his  arm 
from  her  support.  "  I  am  not  welcome,  then  ?  You 
wish  me  dead  ?" 

"  No,  no,  no!  thou  art  thrice  welcome  to  my  heart 
— to  my  arms,"  and  she  cast  herself  on  his  bosom  ; 
"  I  will  borrow  a  few  moments  from  the  grave  to  be 
happy  with  thee ;  and  Heaven,  I  trust,  will  pardon  me 
that  I  mix  one  drop  of  sweetness  in  the  bitter  draught 
I  must  soon  drain  to  the  dregs." 

She  leaned  on  his  breast ;  she  permitted  him  to 
clasp  her  in  his  arms,  and  kiss  away  the  tears  that 
now,  the  first  for  many  days,  trickled  down  her  pale 
cheeks,  and  relieved  her  oppressed  heart.  In  the  joy 
of  meeting  again  they  forgot  how  soon  they  were  to 
part ;  and  it  was  not  until  the  jailer  made  his  appear- 
ance, and  reminded  Langley  it  was  time  to  depart, 
that  they  awoke  to  a  full  perception  of  the  present 
awful  crisis. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

In  which  the  Author,  after  Vindicating  Himself  from  a  Serious  Charge, 
and  Disclosing  a.  Great  Secret,  Takes  a  Retrospect  by  Way  of 
Accounting  for  the  Appearance  of  the  Ghost. 

DURING  the  interview  recorded  in  the  preceding  chap- 
ter, it  may  well  be  presumed  that  Miriam,  being  a 
woman,  had  expressed  a  curiosity  to  know  how  Lang- 
ley  Tyringham  happened  to  be  in  the  land  of  the 
living,  after  having  been  drowned  and  his  dead  body 
actually  recognized.  This  drew  from  him  a  relation, 
which  will  be  given  in  our  own  words,  inasmuch  as 
Master  Langley,  in  the  course  of  his  detail,  indulged 
himself  in  divers  digressions  both  of  speech  and  action, 
in  which  he  was  encouraged,  if  not  abetted,  by 
Miriam,  and  which,  to  confess  the  truth,  rendered  his 
story  rather  desultory  to  a  dispassionate  hearer. 

Previous,  however,  to  commencing  our  narrative, 
we  feel  it  incumbent  on  ourselves  to  repel  a  grievous 
charge,  which  we  foresee  will  be  made  against  us  by 
that  class  of  readers  between  which  and  the  writers 
of  romance  there  is  always  a  severe  contest,  the  one 
to  discover  as  soon,  the  other  to  keep  his  secret  as 

VOL.    II.  10 


218  THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS   DAUGHTER. 

long  as  possible.  Such,  however,  is  the  sagacity  and 
experience  of  romance  readers  of  the  present  day,  that 
the  author,  notwithstanding  all  his  doublings,  and 
windings,  and  dodgings,  is  generally  fairly  run  down 
and  unkenneled  before  he  has  got  half  through  his 
first  volume.  Hence  it  is,  that  experienced  writers  of 
this  class,  who  have  written  some  two  or  three  hun- 
dred volumes,  have  adopted  the  practice  of  writing 
extemporaneously,  and  commencing  a  work  without 
having  the  remotest  idea  how  it  is  to  end,  leaving  the 
catastrophe  to  be  worked  out  by  accident.  By  this 
cunning  device  they  hope  to  puzzle  and  confound  the 
reader,  so  that  he  will  be  left  in  doubt  to  the  last 
moment.  Such,  however,  is  the  instinctive  sagacity 
of  this  class  of  students,  that  this  plan  seldom,  if  ever, 
succeeds ;  and  it  is  now  a  notorious  fact,  that  most 
readers  anticipate  the  author  in  his  voyage,  and  dis- 
cover to  what  port  he  is  bound,  long  before  he  knows 
it  himself. 

But  all  readers  are  not  so  knowing.  There  is  a 
simple — we  will  not  call  them  ignorant — for  there  are 
no  such  monsters  at  present — there  is  a  simple  class 
of  romance  readers,  who  have  adopted  the  belief,  that 
an  author  absolutely  knows  everything,  past,  present, 
and  to  come.  But  we  solemnly  assure  them  this  is 
not  the  case.  There  are  some  few  things  of  which  we 
are  ignorant ;  and  this  must  be  our  apology  for  having 
cheated  the  reader  out  of  so  much  valuable  sympathy, 
by  making  him  believe  that  Langley  Tyringham  was 
drowned,  when  in  fact,  no  such  accident  had  happen- 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  219 

ed.  For  this,  our  apology  must  be,  that  we  were  our- 
selves entirely  ignorant  that  our  hero  was  actually  still 
in  the  land  of  the  living,  until  he  suddenly  made  his 
appearance,  as  related  in  the  preceding  chapter.  The 
truth  is,  that  the  scene  of  his  supposed  death,  was  so 
remote  from  all  civilized  life,  and  accompanied  by  such 
strange  romantic  circumstances,  that  we  never  could 
come  at  the  truth,  till  we  had  the  young  gentleman's 
word  for  it,  and,  therefore,  thought  it  most  prudent  to 
say  nothing  on  the  subject,  lest  we  might  mislead  the 
simple  reader,  who  pins  his  faith  on  the  sleeve  of  an 
author,  and  believes  everything  he  sees  in  print.  With 
this  explanation,  which  will,  doubtless,  be  quite  satis- 
factory, we  proceed  to  abridge  the  relation  of  Master 
Langley,  in  our  own  way,  seeing  it  is  an  awkward 
business  for  a  man  to  be  the  hero  of  his  own  story. 

The  departure  of  Harold  Habingdon,  and  his  family, 
without  taking  leave,  had  given  no  small  offence  to  the 
old  Cavalier,  who  was  somewhat  ceremonious,  and 
considered  a  breach  of  etiquette  near  akin  to  a  breach 
of  the  decalogue.  It  increased  his  distaste  for  the 
Roundheads,  and  gave  occasion  for  divers  flings  at 
Crop-ears,  Levellers,  and  Rebels.  On  Langley  it  had 
a  far  different  effect.  Though  in  the  course  of  our 
story,  we  have  dilated  but  briefly  on  the  subject,  con- 
sidering love  scenes  much  more  agreeable  to  actors 
than  spectators,  yet  had  there  been  both  time  and 
opportunity,  for  the  growth  of  an  ardent,  deep-seated, 
and  lasting  attachment  between  ,  these  young  people, 
thus  thrown  together  in  a  situation  where  the  absence 


220  THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS    DAUGHTER. 

of  those  various  excitements  of  the  busy  world,  which 
fritter  away  the  affections  of  the  heart  by  piecemeal, 
and  as  it  were  neutralize  each  other,  gives  force  and 
permanency  to  the  master  feeling,  whatever  that  may 
be.  This  attachment  which  in  its  earliest  stage,  had 
been  met  by  the  positive  prohibition  of  one  parent  and 
the  stern,  inflexible  opposition  of  the  other,  had  not 
been  subdued  or  arrested,  but  strengthened  by  these 
obstacles.  The  damming  up  of  the  stream  only  raised 
the  waters  the  higher,  and  threw  them  back  with 
greater  weight  and  volume. 

Langley  became  moody,  careless,  and  abstracted — 
neglected  himself,  and  was  indifferent  to  others.  He 
took  long  rides,  but  could  not  tell  on  his  return  where 
he  had  been ;  he  displayed  no  interest  whatever  in  his 
former  favorite  amusements  of  hunting,  and  sailing 
on  the  river ;  and  seemed  altogether  wrapt  up  in  a 
sort  of  indolent,  gloomy  melancholy.  The  old  Cavalier 
frequently  took  him  to  task,  and  as  usual,  only  made 
matters  worse.  Like  many  fathers,  he  forgot  his 
son  was  no  longer  a  child,  and  treated  him  as  a  boy, 
when  in  fact,  he  had  become  a  man.  Langley  had 
always  cherished  a  warm  filial  affection,  as  well  as  a 
deep  sense  of  duty  towards  his  father ;  but  his  pas- 
sionate overbearing  reproaches,  rather  tended  to 
awaken  a  spirit  of  resistance,  than  to  soften  his 
heart,  or  dispose  him  to  yield  his  cherished  feelings 
at  the  arbitrary  command  even  of  a  parent.  He 
thought  that  having  submitted  his  actions  to  the  will 
of  his  father,  he  had  a  right  to  his  thoughts,  at  least. 


THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS   DAUGHTER.  221 

Finding  his  remonstrances  and  commands  equally 
vain  in  altering  the  deportment  of  his  son,  the  old 
Cavalier  hit  on  a  masterly  expedient.  He  instigated 
his  wife  to  negotiate  a  visit  from  a  famous  belle  at  the 
capital,  who  had  figured  at  the  court  of  Charles 
the  Second,  and  it  is  said  nearly  captivated  that 
monarch.  She  was,  moreover,  a  young  lady  of  great 
beauty  and  accomplishments,  and  an  heiress,  to  boot. 
Lastly,  she  was  niece  to  the  Governor,  who,  besides 
being  the  representative  of  majesty,  was  a  veritable 
knight  of  King  James'  creating.  But  Langley — as  he 
assured  JVliriam — paid  her  not  the  least  attention, 
beyond  what  was  due  to  his  mother's  guest;  and  half 
the  time  was  unconscious  of  her  presence.  The  young 
lady — as  well  she  might — soon  became  tired  of  the 
devoirs  of  the  old  Cavalier,  who  endeavored  to  atone 
for  the  deficiencies  of  his  son,  by  a  variety  of  gallant 
expedients,  and  returned  home,  where  she  pronounced 
Master  Langley  as  stupid  as  an  owl — bores  being  not 
yet  in  existence.  The  worthy  gentleman  began  seri- 
ously to  apprehend  that  his  only  son  would  die  a 
bachelor,  and  the  ancient  name  of  Tyringham  become 
extinct  in  the  New  "World.  As  usual,  in  the  last 
resort,  and  when  he  had  gone  so  far  in  the  wrong 
track,  that  he  could  not  find  his  way  back,  he  called 
the  sage  Gregory  Moth  to  a  consultation,  to  whose 
opinion  he  always  paid  great  deference,  when  it 
squared  with  his  own. 

"  Gregory,"  quoth  he,  "  What  has  got  into  that 
blockhead,  my  son  ?  I  can't  tell  what  to  make  of  him, 


222  THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS   DAUGHTER. 

not  I.  He  is  getting  quite  thin  ;  he  has  lost  all  relish 
for  horse-racing,  hunting  and  sailing ;  eats  little  break- 
fast, forgets  to  come  home  to  dinner,  and  what  is  worse 
than  all,  drinks  no  wine." 

"  That's  a  very  bad  symptom,"  said  Gregory,  shak- 
ing his  head. 

"Very  bad — I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  he  had  a 
touch  of  the  ague  before  long — hey?" 

"  I  am  inclined  to  think,  sir,  that  his  complaint  is 
more  likely  to  turn  out  a  fever.  But  verily,  sir  master 
of  mine,  did  it  never  occur  to  you  in  your  hours  of 
serious  meditation,  that  you  were  as  blind  as  a  bat, 
metaphorically  speaking  ?" 

"  Why,  you  impudent  varlet,  what  do  you  mean  by 
that,  hey  ?" 

"  "Why,  sir,  with  due  submission,  I  mean  exactly 
what  I  say,  which  is  more  than  most  people  do.  I 
consider  you  as  having  been  struck  with  a  preternatu- 
ral blindness,  intended,  doubtless,  as  a  punishment  for 
having  consulted  me  so  often  withou  t  taking  my  ad- 
vice. I  may  be  mistaken,  sir,  but  I  have  sometimes 
doubted  whether  you  can  see  the  nose  on  your  face." 

"  I  tell  you  what,  Master  Gregory  Moth,"  quoth 
the  Cavalier,  brandishing  his  cane,  "  if  you  don't 
speak  to  the  purpose,  and  that  speedily,  I  can  see 
clear  enough  to  plant  this  stick  directly  on  your  nonce. 
'Slife,  sir,  answer  me  without  any  of  your  infernal  cir- 
cumlocutions. What  do  you  think  is  come  over  my 
son  Langley  ?" 


THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS   DAUGHTER.  223 

"Why,  verily,  sir,  I  opine  that  his  very  heart-strings 
are  tied  up  in  a  true  lover's  knot." 

"  Hey — what  ?  Nonsense,  Gregory — why,  he  has 
seen  but  one  young  white  woman — except  her  that  is 
just  gone — since  he  came  to  years  of  discretion,  and  I 
positively  prohibited  him  from  visiting,  talking  to,  or 
thinking  of  her." 

"Ah,  sir,  that's  the  very  thing.  Seeing  but  one 
young  woman,  he  could  make  no  comparisons  to  her 
disadvantage.  Any  woman  standing  alone  in  the  wil- 
derness is  an  angel.  Touching  your  prohibitions — as  I 
observed,  with  all  due  submission  just  now — you  must 
be  blind  to  all  human  experience  not  to  know,  that  both 
men  and  women — being  descendants  of  Adam  and 
Eve — love  nothing  so  dearly  as  forbidden  fruit.  Ergo 
— speaking  logically,  my  young  master  did  doubtless 
fall  in  love  with  the  Crop-ear's  daughter  as  soon  as 
possible  after  you  forbade  him,  if  he  had  not  done  so 
before." 

"  Hum,"  quoth  the  Cavalier,  thoughtfully,  "  very 
likely ;  I  think  I  recollect  something  of  that  kind  when 
I  was  young.  But  if  the  mischief  is  done,  it  is  too  late 
to  prevent  it  now,  eh  ?" 

"  You  never  said  a  wiser  thing  in  your  life,  sir,  and 
in  respect  to  the  discretion  of  your  tongue,  marvelously 
resemble  our  most  gracious  sovereign,  Charles  the 
Second.  In  my  humble  opinion,  the  best  way  to  treat 
an  event  after  it  hath  actually  happened  is  to  let  it 
take  its  course  till  it  runs  itself  fairly  aground,  instead 
of  getting  our  fingers  crushed  by  attempting  to  stop 


224  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

the  stone  while  it  is  bounding  full  tilt  down  hill.  The 
truth  is,  we  don't  know  whether  it  will  turn  out  good 
or  bad,  till  we  see  the  end  of  it ;  and  as  Seneca  says — 
I  don't  recollect  exactly  what  he  says,  but  it  is  some- 
thing very  much  to  the  purpose — and  certain  it  is  that 
our  misfortunes  frequently  turn  out  greatly  to  our 
benefit.  The  pursuit  of  happiness  is  like  that  of  the 
hunter,  who  must  plunge  into  thickets,  swamps  and 
puddles,  to  run  down  his  game." 

"Gregory,"  said  his  master,  "if  your  wisdom 
were  not  grievously  adulterated  by  your  folly,  you 
might  in  good  time  make  a  fourth  among  the  wise 
men  of  G-otham.  If  I  understand  you,  which  is  no 
easy  matter,  I  had  better  let  Master  Langley  alone,  till 
his  love  burns  out  of  itself,  like  a  fire  in  the  moun- 
tains, eh  ?" 

"Assuredly,  sir." 

"  But  if  I  find  it  won't  burn  out,  what  then  ?" 

"  Why  then,  sir,  logically  speaking,  I  would  let 
him  seek  out  and  marry  the  Crop-ear  young  lady, 
and  then  it  will  entirely  go  out  in  the  common  coarse 
of  nature." 

"  Well,  I  will  let  him  alone  awhile  longer,  and  if  I 
find  it  don't  turn  out  a  case  of  ague  and  fever,  and  he 
fails  to  recover  his  spirits,  I  may  consent  to  let  him 
take  a  trip  to  that  nest  of  Roundheads  down  East,  in 
search  of  that  little  damsel,  who  I  should  like 
mightily,  if  she  were  not  of  that  confounded  Puritan 
breed,  which  scorns  to  obey  the  king,  much  less  a  hus- 
band. She  may  have  married  or  turned  witch,  as  I 


THE    PURITAN   AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  225 

hear  one  half  of  the  women  have  in  that  quarter,  and 
either  specific  will  cure  him.  What  say  you,  my 
trusty  counsellor  ?" 

"  I  say  amen,  sir,  and  bow  to  your  superior  wisdom. 
It  would  be  a  great  pity  my  young  master  should  fail 
in  transmitting  your  name  and  honors  to  posterity." 

"  Aye,  Gregory ,  and  who  knows  what  honors  be- 
sides. I  have  received  letters  from  home,  by  which  I 
learn  that  his  lordship,  my  elder  brother,  and  first  born 
of  Egypt,  has  only  four  sons  at  present  living,  and  is 
not  in  good  health.  Now  suppose  ono  should  break 
his  neck  in  a  fox  chase ,  a  second  be  killed  in  battle, 
a  third  be  drowned,  and  a  fourth  hang  himself  for 
want  of  excitement ;  you  know  Langley  would  come 
in  for  the  estate  and  title.  It  is,  therefore  indispensa- 
ble he  should  marry,  in  order  to  continue  the  line, 
which,  after  all,  will  suffer  no  disgrace  by  a  union  with 
the  Roundhead's  daughter,  for  he  has  a  most  infernal 
musty  pedigree,  Langley  says." 

Thus  ended  the  conference.  But  when,  after  the 
expiration  of  several  months,  it  was  found  that  Lang- 
ley  so  far  from  recovering  his  spirits,  became  still  more 
abstracted  and  melancholy ;  that  though  his  disease 
did  not  turn  out  to  be  ague  and  fever,  his  health 
seemed  gradually  declining,  the  old  Cavalier  one  day 
took  occasion  to  question  him  directly,  as  to  the  cause 
of  his  change  both  in  habits  and  manners,  at  the  same 
time  requesting  a  frank  reply.  Langley  made  no  hesi- 
tation in  opening  his  heart  to  his  father,  and  in  conclu- 
sion addressed  him  as  follows : 
10* 


226  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

"  So  far  as  regards  your  commands  to  cease  all  in- 
tercourse with  Miriam  Habingdon,  I  have  obeyed  you, 
sir,  and  if  we  met  it  was  by  accident.  As  a  father, 
you  had  a  right  to  forbid  my  bringing  into  your  house 
a  daughter  whose  manners,  habits,  and  religion  were 
not  only  disagreeable  but  offensive  to  you.  I  was,  and 
am  still  entirely  dependent  on  your  bounty,  and  so 
long  as  I  continue  so,  have  no  claim  to  do  as  I  please. 
But  here,  sir,  I  conceive  your  authority  ceases.  You 
have  no  right,  derived  from  divine  or  human  laws,  to 
exact  from  me  any  farther  sacrifice  by  commanding  me 
to  wed  another.  I  neither  can  or  will  obey  you.  We 
are  equally  bound  by  an  exchange  of  vows,  as  by  the 
unchangeable  feelings  of  my  heart,  at  least ;  and  I  de- 
clare to  you  solemnly  and  before  God,  that  no  other 
woman  shall  ever  stand  with  me  before  the  altar,  but 
my  own  Miriam.  It  rests  with  you,  sir,  to  say  whether 
I  am  to  continue  in  an  existence  equally  useless  to 
myself  and  others  ;  a  solitary  being,  without  a  purpose 
in  life  ;  a  burden  to  myself,  and  to  those  I  would  will- 
ingly rid  of  all  burdens  ;  or  to  give  me  a  new  existence, 
new  hopes,  new  objects,  and  new  excitements,  by  per- 
mitting me  to  seek  Miriam,  wherever  she  may  be 
found.  If  I  find  she  has  forgotten  me,  and  chosen 
another,  I  am  not  such  a  silly  weakling  but  that  I  can 
leave  and  forget  her.  But  if  I  find  her,  as  I  know  I 
shall,  true  to  her  vows,  I  will  make  every  effort  to  re- 
move those  objections  which,  I  fear,  my  dear  father, 
are  far  more  difficult  than  yours  to  overcome.  I  entreat, 
I  conjure,  sir,  as  you  value  my  happiness  in  this  world, 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  227 

to  let  me  go  and  try  my  fortune.  Promise  me,  too,  that 
if  I  succeed  you  will  receive  Miriam  and  cherish  her 
as  a  daughter  ;  for  I  swear  to  you  she  will  deserve  it. 
For  my  mother — I  know  I  am  sure  of  her." 

"  Go,  then,  in  (rod's  name,  and  may  success  attend 
you,"  said  the  old  Cavalier,  overcome  by  this  manly 
expostulation.  "  There  is  a  vessel  to  sail  in  a  few 
days.  Get  ready  as  soon  as  you  can  and  return  as 
early  as  possible,  for  who  knows  what  may  happen  in 
your  absence.  From  the  savages  there  is  now  nothing 
to  fear,  but  there  is  another  foe,  or  fiend,  as  may  be, 
who  launches  his  arrows  with  more  certainty  than  the 
Indian  warrior." 

"  Believe  me,  sir,"  cried  Langley,  who  seemed  at 
once  awakened  to  new  life,  "  believe  me,  I  will  not 
lose  a  moment,  and  I  trust  in  Heaven  I  may  bring 
you  one  who  will  be  the  solace  of  your  age  for  long 
years  to  come." 

"  Amen  !  "  said  the  old  cavalier,  and  they  parted. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Retrospect  Continued. 

THE  matter  being  thus  promptly  settled,  Master  Hugh 
Tyringham,  from  the  mere  force  of  habit,  consulted 
his  better  half  on  the  subject,  who,  being  a  sensible 
woman,  and  an  excellent  wife,  withal,  very  judiciously 
answered,  "  you  know  best,  my  dear,"  and  proceeded 
quietly  in  a  succession  of  painful  endeavors  to  thread 
her  needle.  She  was,  indeed,  a  pattern  of  a  woman, 
and  merited  a  more  particular  introduction  to  the 
reader  than  we  have  yet  given.  This  must  be  our 
apology  for  having  said  so  little  of  her  in  the  progress 
of  our  tale.  Any  good-for-nothing  woman  may  be 
made  to  figure  in  romance :  but  it  is  no  easy  task  to 
make  anything  of  a  discreet,  plain,  good-tempered 
dame,  whose  virtues  are  so  nicely  balanced  and  har- 
moniously blended  that  there  is  nothing  monstrous  or 
disproportioned  to  excite  wonder,  admiration  or  disgust. 
Hence,  without  doubt,  it  so  often  happens  that  writers 
of  fiction  are  obliged  to  resort  for  their  heroine  to 
some  strange,  fantastic,  incomprehensible  being,  as  it 
were  "  half  horse,  half  alligator,  and  a  little  of  the 
snapping  turtle,"  whose  high  attainments,  sublime 


THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS    DAUGHTER.  229 

genius  and  trancendental  transcendentalism,  serve  no 
other  purpose  than  to  destroy  her  own  happiness  and 
that  of  all  within  the  sphere  of  her  influence.  The 
gentle  and  judicious  reader  will  pardon  this,  and  all 
other  digressions,  most  especially  when  we  assure  him 
that  these  seeming  excrescences  contain  the  very 
cream  of  our  work.  Having  been  forced,  by  the  taste 
of  the  venerable  public,  to  glean  in  the  weather-beaten 
path  of  fiction,  we  have  sought  to  mingle  with  it  as 
much  concealed  morality  as  the  spirit  of  the  age  will 
bear. 

The  old  Cavalier  possessed  many  good  qualities, 
though,  like  big  John  Bull,  he  sometimes  had  a  dis- 
agreeable way  of  showing  them.  But  it  is  not  intended 
to  hold  him  up  as  a  model  for  husbands,  for  he  was 
sometimes  a  little  testy,  and  occasionally  somewhat 
unreasonable.  He  neither  liked  his  wife  to  agree  with 
him  without  some  little  discussion,  nor  to  oppose  him 
without  in  the  end  coming  round  to  his  opinion.  Tacit 
acquiescence  was  as  disagreeable  to  him  as  obstinate 
resistance  ;  and  being  on  this  particular  occasion  a 
little  dubious  as  to  the  wisdom  of  his  course,  he  wished 
to  bolster  himself  up  with  the  opinion  of  his  wife.  If 
the  affair  turned  out  badly,  he  might  then  throw  all 
the  responsibility  upon  her  shoulders.  When,  there- 
fore, she  quietly  answered,  "  you  know  best,  my  dear,", 
he  felt  somewhat  nettled  at  her  passive  obedience. 

"  'Slife,  Mistress  Tyringham,"  said  he,  "  I  asked 
your  advice,  not  your  acquiescence.  I  am  pretty  well 
satisfied  .that  I  know  best,  yet,  as  two  heads  are  better 


230  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

than  one — you  know  the  old  proverbr — I  should  like 
to  know  what  you  think  of  this  journey  of  Langley, 
eh?" 

"  "Why,  my  dear,  as  I  said  before,  I  think  you  know 
or  ought  to  know  best,  and — bless  me !  if  I  haven't 
been  stitching  this  petticoat  wrong  side  outwards." 

"  The  devil  take  all  stitching,  patching  and  hem- 
ming. What  has  that  to  do  with  the  matter  ?  I  want 
your  opinion,  madam." 

"  "Well,  my  dear,  I  agree  with  you  perfectly." 

"  Zounds  !  I  tell  you  I  don't  wish  you  to  agree  with 
me  perfectly." 

"  "Well,  then,  my  dear — " 

"  Don't  dear  me,  if  you  please.  You  are  never  so 
affectionate  as  when  doing  all  you  can  to  provoke 
me." 

"  "Well,  then,  my — hem  !  I  differ  with  you  entirely," 
said  she,  laughing  at  the  same  time  so  exuberantly 
that  she  missed  threading  her  needle  three  several 
times. 

"  Mistress  Tyringham,"  roared  the  Cavalier,  "  I 
don't  wish  to  say  anything  disagreeable  or  disrespect- 
ful, but,  by  the  Lord  Harry,  you  are  a  great  fool !" 

"  Ah !  my — Mr.  Tyringham,  you  should  not  say 
that,  at  least  in  my  presence.  I  may  not  be  as  wise 
as  you,  but  it  is  quite  impossible  for  one  to  have  lived 
with  you  so  long  and  be  a  fool.  But,  now,  I  recollect, 
Gregory  has  brought  home  one  of  the  finest  wild  tur- 
keys I  ever  saw,  and  I  want  your  opinion  about 
cooking  it." 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  231 

Hereupon  the  worthy  gentleman  rubbed  his  hands 
•with  great  glee,  and  the  conference  was  ended  in  the 
pantry. 

It  may  be  taken  for  granted  that  Langley  Tyring- 
ham  lost  no  time  in  making  his  arrangements  for  a 
voyage  to  New  England  in  search  of  a  wife.  On  in- 
quiry, he  learned  that  our  old  acquaintance,  Captain 
Skeering,  having  established  a  regular  trade  between 
the  two  colonies,  was  now  in  port  and  on  the  eve  of 
sailing.  Accordingly,  being  liberally  supplied  with  the 
one  thing  needful  by  his  father,  and  letters  of  introduc- 
tion to  the  Governor,  as  well  as  other  gentlemen  of 
Massachusetts  Bay,  he  took  an  affectionate  leave  of 
his  parents,  not  forgetting  Gregory  Moth ;  embarked 
with  Captain  Skeering,  and  cleared  the  capes  with  a 
prosperous  breeze. 

The  first  and  second  day,  Langley,  being  the  only 
passenger,  had  the  vessel  to  himself,  but  on  the  morn- 
ing of  the  third,  one  of  the  sailors  informed  the  cap- 
tain that  a  "tarnation  droll  cretur"  had  just  crept  out 
of  the  forecastle,  though  nobody  knew  how  he  came 
there.  The  captain  went  forward,  followed  by  Lang- 
ley,  to  investigate  this  strange  interloper,  who  at  the 
first  blush  demonstrated  himself  to  be  a  lost  sheep  from 
the  flock  of  gentlemen.  His  garments  had  evidently 
once  been  rich  and  fashionable,  but  were  now  in  the 
last  stage  of  dissolution  and  decay,  and  he  bore  about 
him  all  the  insignia  of  poverty,  except  humility ;  for 
he  encountered  the  unwelcome  looks  of  all  around, 
with  a  hardy,  insolent  indifference.  Though  his  face 


232  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

was  marred  and  blotched  by  intemperance,  and  his 
tattered  garments  smeared  with  dirt,  still  there  was 
about  him  some  of  those  evidences  of  better  days,  that 
often  survive  the  lowest  stages  of  degradation,  and  dis- 
tinguish the  fallen  angel  from  the  mere  animal  man. 
Captain  Skeering  was  one  who  took  everything  coolly  ; 
he  never  got  outwardly  angry,  and  his  self-possession 
was  proof  against  a  hurricane.  He  civilly  inquired  of 
the  mysterious  stranger,  how  he  got  on  board,  whence 
he  came,  and  what  his  object  in  coming. 

"I  hid  myself  in  a  locker,"  replied  he,  "I  came 
from  the  capital,  and  my  object  was  to  escape  the 
constable." 

"  You  don't  say  so,"  replied  the  captain,  in  his  sim- 
ple way.  "  "What  had  you  to  do  with  a  constable  ?" 

"  Why,  I  had  the  misfortune  to  run  in  debt  to  my 
landlord,  who  was  so  unreasonable  to  expect  payment 
from  a  man  without  the  means." 

"  Then  you  have  no  money,  I  guess,"  said  the  cap- 
tain. 

"  Not  a  groat." 

"  And  how  do  you  expect  to  pay  your  passage, 
friend." 

"  I  don't  expect  to  pay  it,  friend." 

"  The  deuce  you  don't.     But  maybe  I  do,  though." 

"  Look  you,  captain,"  said  the  gentleman  vagabond, 
"  I  carry  in  my  veins  the  blood  of  kings,  and  number 
among  my  ancestors,  princes,  dukes  and  earls  by 
dozens." 


THE    PURITAN    AKD   HIS    DAUGHTER.  233 

"  Pooh,"  said  the  captain,  "  What's  the  use  of  being 
high  born,  if  a  man  has  no  money  ?" 

"  Use  ?"  said  the  other,  "  very  great  use,  sir.  One 
of  the  greatest  advantages  of  high  birth  is,  that  it 
makes  merit  entirely  unnecessary.  But  listen — I  have 
been  a  courtier,  a  soldier,  a  gambler,  a  highwayman, 
a  bully,  a  cheat  and  a  dupe.  I  have  lived  by  my  wits 
— but  there  are  two  things  I  never  descended  to — I 
never  worked  or  begged — I  was  above  that.  I  was 
once  within  one  degree  of  the  top  ;  I  *  am  now  at  the 
bottom  ;  and  though  I  lack  courage  to  drown  myself, 
I  shouldn't  much  mind  being  drowned  by  another. 
Here  I  am  without  a  shilling.  If  you  don't  choose  to 
take  me  where  you  are  going,  fill  my  pockets  with 
lead  and  throw  me  overboard,  that  I  may  give  the  lie 
to  my  good  friends  at  home,  who  long  since  predicted 
I  was  born  to  be  hanged." 

"  But  how  came  you  to  be  in  this  miserable  condi- 
tion, if  you  have  such  great  friends  ?"  asked  the  captain. 

"  I  was  a  younger  brother,"  answered  the  other, 
fiercely — "  I  was  disinherited  at  my  birth.  Another 
came  before  me  and  reaped  the  harvest.  Don't  you 
know,  sir,  that  to  be  second  best  among  us  is  to  be 
nothing.  My  elder  brother  started  first  in  the  race, 
took  the  purse,  and  left  me  the  lining.  He  played  the 
tyrant  and  I  whipped  him.  They  sent  me  to  college, 
and  I  was  expelled.  They  purchased  me  a  commis- 
sion in  a  regiment  disbanded  at  the  conclusion  of 
peace.  I  sent  to  beg  forgiveness  of  my  father,  but  he 
said  I  had  disgraced  him.  I  joined  a  party  who 


234  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

amused  themselves  occasionally  on  the  king's  highway, 
made  a  great  prize  at  the  expense  of  the  life  of  the 
owner ;  was  tried  and  condemned  to  the  gallows.  My 
father,  fearing  I  should  further  disgrace  him  by  being 
hanged,  sent  an  agent  to  say  he  would  procure  my 
pardon  if  I  would  take  an  oath  to  change  my  name, 
leave  England,  and  never  return.  I  had  a  great  mind 
to  be  hanged  on  purpose  to  spite  my  family,  and  leave 
behind  me  a  famous  dying  speech  and  confession ; 
but,  on  the  whole,  concluded  to  accept  the  terms  offered, 
especially  as  they  included  a  purse  of  money.  Finally, 
I  sailed  on  the  Virginia  voyage,  arrived  safe,  spent  my 
money,  ran  in  debt,  ran  away,  and  here  am  I  at  your 
service." 

In  the  course  of  this  brief,  yet  comprehensive  detail, 
the  gentleman  vagabond,  as  we  shall  dub  him,  he 
having  positively  refused  to  disclose  his  name,  seemed 
not  the  least  affected  by  the  recollections  of  the  past 
or  the  prospects  of  the  future  ;  and  it  was  evident  that 
he  had  not  only  outlived  the  feeling  of  compunction, 
but  the  sense  of  shame.  An  outcast  of  Providence,  he 
had  neither  the  capacity  or  inclination  to  reform ;  and 
it  seemed  as  if  he  was  permitted  to  cumber  the  earth 
for  the  purpose  of  exhibiting  an  example  proving  the 
futility  of  high  birth  or  noble  blood  in  sustaining  the 
dignity  of  man,  without  the  aid  of  integrity  and 
virtue. 

There  was  no  help  for  it,  however.  The  captain 
shrugged  his  shoulders  and  declined  throwing  him 
overboard;  and  he  was  suffered  to  remain  until  an 


THE    PURITAN   AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  235 

opportunity  offered  of  putting  him  on  shore.  It  was 
curious  to  see  how  this  miserable  outcast  carried  his 
head  above  the  common  sailor,  and  with  what  silent 
contempt  he  declined  answering  any  of  their  questions. 
He  assumed  an  air  of  superiority  over  the  captain, 
and  if  at  any  time  he  addressed  Langley  Tyringham, 
it  was  with  an  air  of  courtly  condescension  that  would 
have  been  rather  provoking  in  any  one  but  such  a  rag- 
amuffin. If  asked  to  assist  in  any  emergency,  he 
turned  up  his  nose  in  scorn,  and  swore  that  rather 
than  debase  himself  by  working,  he  would  die  in  a 
hospital  or  swing  on  a  gallows.  The  sailors  dubbed 
him  "  the  gentleman  vagabond  ;"  the  captain  prohib- 
ited his  entering  the  cabin ;  and  Langley  contem- 
plated him  with  a  mixture  of  contempt  and  horror. 

Meanwhile,  the  good  vessel  sailed  steadily  onwards 
with  a  genial  southerly  breeze,  and  the  worthy  captain, 
having  no  special  business  at  any  intervening  port, 
made  no  stop  by  the  way.  They  had  reached  the 
easternmost  extremity  of  Long  Island,  and  the  captain, 
having  consigned  the  care  of  the  schooner  to  his  trusty 
mate,  had  retired  to  his  cabin,  when,  in  an  instant,  and 
without  the  least  preparatory  warning,  a  squall  struck 
her  while  lying  almost  becalmed,  and  before  she  could 
recover  way,  threw  her  on  her  beam  ends.  The  vessel 
did  not  fill  immediately;  but  such  was  the  confusion 
created  by  this  accident,  that  no  one  thought  of  saving 
anything,  ere  it  was  too  late.  It  was  supposed  at  first 
that  the  gentleman  vagabond  had  been  washed  over- 
board, until  he  was  seen  creeping  out  of  the  cabin, 


236  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

like  a  drowned  rat.  All  were  too  much  occupied  to 
take  any  note  of  this  circumstance,  and  none  remem- 
bered it  afterwards 

The  squall  was  succeeded  by  a  fierce  gale,  which 
continued  nearly  four  and  twenty  hours,  during  which 
the  vessel  floated  at  random,  until  at  length  she  was 
cast  ashore  on  a  small  island,  inhabited  by  Indians, 
and  soon  went  to  pieces.  It  is  believed  that  this  was 
what  is  now  called  Block  Island,  but  as  it^is  not 
material,  we  shall  not  insist  upon  it.  The  situation 
of  the  island  and  the  sterility  of  the  soil  having  hitherto 
protected  it  from  the  inroads  of  the  whites,  the  savages 
had  no  injuries  to  revenge,  and  contented  themselves 
with  stripping  their  involuntary  victims  of  their  out- 
ward garments  and  setting  them  to  work  in  various 
ways.  Langley,  being  better  dressed  than  the  rest, 
his  clothes  were  claimed  by  the  principal  chief,  who 
reserved  them  for  extraordinary  occasions,  and  depos- 
ited them  among  the  treasures  of  his  wigwam.  The 
gentleman  vagabond  also  fell  to  the  lot  of  the  same 
high  dignitary,  who,  after  examining  his  costume  with 
great  contempt,  suffered  him  to  retain  his  ragged  rem- 
nants as  unworthy  of  his  adoption. 

Here  they  remained  in  melancholy  exile,  the  bond- 
men of  barbarians,  performing  the  work  of  slaves 
without  the  rewards  of  slavery,  and  without  the  hope 
of  relief.  Captain  Skeering,  who  had  once  before  been 
in  a  similar  situation,  set  himself  to  making  the  best 
of  a  bad  bargain.  He  labored  as  if  for  his  own  benefit, 
and  preserved  a  perfect  equanimity  of  temper  on  all 


THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS    DAUGHTER.  237 

occasions,  only  that  he  obstinately  refused  to  work  on 
Sundays.  This,  at  first,  brought  him  into  difficulty, 
until  he  compounded  matters  by  doing  double  duty  on 
Saturdays.  But  of  all  persons  in  the  world,  your 
gentleman  is  in  the  most  doleful  predicament  when 
obliged  to  resort  to  his  physical  energies  in  any  useful 
employment ;  and  Langley  greatly  excited  the  con- 
tempt of  the  squaws  by  his  total  ignorance  of  the  art 
of  raising  squashes.  He  knew  something  of  fishing 
and  shooting,  but  the  Indians  would  not  trust  him 
with  weapons,  or  permit  his  going  out  in  a  canoe.  He 
suffered  many  hardships  and  privations,  which,  how- 
ever, had  this  advantage,  that  their  close  pressure  often 
drew  him  from  the  most  painful  of  all  his  contempla- 
tions, that  of  being  probably  forever  divorced  from 
Miriam  and  his  home.  As  for  the  gentleman  vaga- 
bond, the  savages  could  make  nothing  of  him.  He 
swore  he  would  not  degrade  himself  and  his  ancestors 
by  raising  pumpkins  and  squashes ;  resisted  all  at- 
tempts at  coercion,  and  finally  entered  into  a  treaty, 
by  virtue  of  which  he  maintained  his  dignity  on  con- 
dition of  furnishing  the  little  papooses  with  plenty  of 
whistles. 

Thus  passed  the  time  in  hopeless  captivity,  until  the 
Indians  engaged  in  a  great  hunting  expedition,  in  con- 
junction with  a  friendly  tribe  on  the  opposite  shore  of 
Long  Island.  As  is  usual  on  such  occasions,  all  the 
men  except  the  aged  and  decrepid,  went  forth,  carrying 
with  them  their  canoes,  with  the  exception  of  a  single 
one,  reserved  in  case  it  became  necessary  to  commu- 


238  THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS   DAUGHTER. 

nicate  with  the  hunting  party.  The  prisoners  were 
left  behind,  the  distance  of  the  island  from  all  other 
points  of  land  precluding  their  escape  by  swimming, 
and  the  single  boat — a  bark  canoe — not  affording  them 
the  means  of  conveyance.  The  next  morning,  but 
one,  after  the  departure  of  the  savages,  not  only  the 
gentleman  vagabond  was  missing,  but  likewise  the 
canoe,  as  well  as  the  garments  of  Langley  Tyringham, 
that  had  been  allotted  to  the  great  chief  of  the  little 
island.  In  their  place  was  found  the  dead  body  of  an 
aged  Indian,  who  had  been  left  in  charge  of  the  royal 
wigwam,  and  who  had  evidently  died  by  violence. 

It  has  been  previously  stated  that  this  fellow,  who 
had  reached  the  last  stage  of  human  depravity,  was 
observed  emerging  from  the  cabin  of  the  schooner  as 
she  lay  on  her  beam  ends,  immediately  after  being 
struck  by  the  squall.  In  the  confusion  that  followed, 
he  had  taken  the  opportunity  to  rifle  Langley's  trunk, 
in  which  the  key  had  been  carelessly  left,  of  a  well- 
filled  purse,  and  a  pocket-book  containing  his  letters  of 
introduction,  together  with  the  formal  consent  of  the 
old  Cavalier  to  his  marriage  with  Miriam  Habingdon. 
These  he  concealed  among  his  rags,  and  had  been 
enabled  to  retain  in  consequence  of  his  dress  being  as 
before  stated,  so  filthy  and  worthless  as  not  to  excite 
the  cupidity  of  the  savages.  Having  noticed  the  posi- 
tion of  the  only  canoe  left  behind  by  the  hunting 
party,  he  conceived  the  design  of  using  it  to  effect  his 
escape  from  the  island,  and  reaching  the  opposite 
shore  of  the  continent,  where  he  imagined  he  should 


THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS   DAUGHTER.  239 

find  the  abodes  of  civilized  men,  and  might  avail  him- 
self of  the  money  and  papers  he  had  purloined.  As 
exclusively  appertaining  to  the  principal  chief,  he 
lodged  in  his  wigwam  with  his  aged  father,  a  decrepid 
Indian  warrior  ;  and  accordingly  in  the  middle  of  the 
night  when  the  old  man  was  fast  asleep,  he  took  the 
opportunity  to  despatch  him  with  a  stone  hatchet  he 
had  found  in  the  wigwam.  This  done,  he  leisurely 
threw  off  his  rags,  and  dressed  himself  in  the  hat  and 
clothes  that  formerly  belonged  to  Langley  Tyringham ; 
after  which  he  made  all  speed  to  the  canoe,  which  he 
launched  from  the  beach,  and  jumping  in,  paddled  off  as 
fast  as  possible.  The  wind  blowing  off  the  island,  the 
waters  were  quite  smooth,  and  he  proceeded  toward  the 
mainland  without  danger  or  difficulty,  until  he  got 
out  of  the  shelter  of  the  island,  and  came  within  the 
influence  of  the  waves  of  the  Atlantic,  when  his  situa- 
tion became  very  precarious.  t  Having  little  experience 
in  the  management  of  boats  of  any  kind,  he  was 
tossed  about  at  random  ;  became  bewildered  and  fright- 
ened, and  finally,  long  before  reaching  the  mainland, 
his  canoe  filled,  capsized,  and  he  was  drowned.  The 
finding  his  body  and  hat ;  the  inference  drawn  from  the 
letters,  partially  preserved  in  the  leather  pocket-book,  and 
the  attendant  circumstances,  are  already  known  to  the 
reader.  The  body  had  remained  too  long  in  the  water 
to  be  recognized  or  described,  and  in  due  time  the 
parents  of  Langley  Tyringham  received  information 
that  clothed  them  in  sorrow  and  mourning. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

Retrospect  Continued. 

THE  escape  of  the  gentleman  vagabond  and  the  mur- 
der of  the  father  of  the  chief  placed  Langley  and  his 
fellow  captives,  as  they  were  well  aware,  in  a  most 
critical  situation.  There  was  no  doubt  that  on  the  re- 
turn of  the  hunting  party,  one  at  least  of  their  num- 
ber would  be  selected  as  a  victim  to  the  manes  of  the 
murdered  Indian,  and  of  course  they  cast  about  for 
the  means  of  escaping.  But  none  presented  them- 
selves. The  boats  of  the  schooner  had  been  swept  from 
the  deck,  and  floated  none  knew  whither ;  the  only 
canoe  left  on  the  island  had  disappeared ;  and  swim- 
ming to  the  mainland,  or  Long  Island,  was  impracti- 
cable. 

Thus  they  remained,  helpless  and  hopeless,  until  the 
arrival  of  the  hunters.  The  rage  of  the  chief  on  learn- 
ing the  murder  of  his  father  was  terrible,  and  those 
aware  of  the  savage  law  of  retaliation  need  scarcely  to 
be  told,  that  it  was  determined  that  the  innocent 
within  their  power  should  be  sacrificed  to  atone  for 
the  crime  of  the  guilty  who  had  escaped.  A  council 


THE    PURITAN   AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  241 

was  held,  and  well  was  it  for  the  captives  that  the 
lazy  savages  could  not  bear  the  idea  of  depriving 
themselves  of  so  many  laborers,  or  they  had  all  been 
condemned  to  the  stake.  It  was  unanimously  decreed 
that  one  of  the  white  men  should  be  sacrificed,  to  ap- 
pease the  wandering  spirit  of  the  slaughtered  Indian. 
The  desire  of  vengeance  yielded  something  to  the  love 
of  ease ;  and  the  choice  of  a  victim  fell  on  Langley, 
whose  labors  were  not  so  valuable  as  those  of  his 
sturdy  companions. 

The  execution  of  savage  vengeance  is  as  prompt  as 
terrible,  and  the  first  notice  our  hero  received  of  his 
doom  was  the  entrance  of  a  trio  of  savages,  who 
forthwith  painted  him  black,  from  head  to  foot.  His 
experience  of  Indian  manners  and  customs  had  but 
too  well  taught  him  the  meaning  of  this  ceremony, 
and  a  horrible  conviction  came  over  him  that  he  was 
doomed  to  suffer  a  lingering  death,  aggravated  by  all 
the  refinements  of  savage  cruelty.  He  was  a  man  of 
courage  and  firmness  ;  but  still  this  conviction  almost 
unmanned  him,  and  for  a  brief  period  he  suffered  the 
most  acute  anguish.  He  had  hitherto  lived  in  hope, 
but  here  ended  all  his  hopes.  He  should  never  more 
see  Miriam  ;  the  home  of  his  father  would  become 
desolate,  and  he  himself  perish  in  agonies  unutterable. 
The  first  shock  over,  however,  he  summoned  up  the 
spirit  within  him,  and  prepared  to  meet  his  fate  like  a 
man. 

He  remained  strictly  guarded  until  the  next  day, 
when  all  things  being  in  readiness,  the  whole  tribe, 

VOL.  n.         11 


242  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

men,  women  and  children,  assembled  in  a  little  valley 
that  opened  out  on  the  sea,  to  witness  this  great  act 
of  justice,  for  such  it  doubtless  appeared  to  them.  As 
is  usual  on  such  occasions,  the  passions  of  all,  espe- 
cially the  women  and  children,  had  been  wrought  to 
the  highest  pitch  of  savage  fury  ;  and  when  the  pris- 
oner was  led  forth,  and  tied  to  the  stake  by  a  rope  of 
sufficient  length  to  permit  him  to  move  around  in  a 
circle  within  reach  of  the  flames,  he  was  received  with 
yells  of  triumph  that  seemed  the  rejoicings  of  fiends. 
Every  species  of  insult,  exultation  and  malice,  was 
resorted  to  by  the  women  and  children  in  order  to 
irritate  him  into  anger  or  complaint.  But  Langley 
had,  during  the  preceding  night,  prepared  himself  to 
meet  the  horrors  of  his  doom.  He  resolved  to  give 
these  barbarians  no  cause  of  triumph  over  the  white 
man,  and  he  was  capable  of  keeping  his  resolution. 
Capt.  Skeering,  who  had  done  his  best  in  his  behalf, 
now,  when  the  pile  was  about  to  be  lighted,  came  to 
him,  and  with  tears  running  down  his  weather-beaten 
face,  said,  "  Master  Tyringham,  I  will  pray  to  God 
for  you,  it  is  all  I  can  do,"  and,  dropping  on  his  knees, 
fulfilled  his  promise  with  pious  fervor. 

The  fire  was  now  set  to  the  pile,  the  smoke  began 
to  ascend  slowly,  and  the  victim,  his  hands  tied  behind 
him,  stood  still  as  death,  with  his  eyes  cast  upwards, 
when  the  loud  report  of  a  cannon  echoed  far  and  near, 
and  the  next  moment  a  vessel  was  seen  to  furl  her 
sails  and  drop  anchor  immediately  opposite  the  cove, 
about  half  a  mile  distant.  At  this  sight  the  savages 


THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS   DAUGHTER.  243 

were  thrown  into  great  commotion,  and  paying  no 
attention  to  the  pile,  the  fire  not  being  thoroughly 
lighted,  went  out  of  itself.  Presently  a  boat  was 
hoisted  out  from  the  vessel;  a  number  of  men  de- 
scended the  side,  and  she  was  rowed  swiftly  towards 
the  shore,  with  a  white  flag  flying  at  her  stern. 

This  signal,  everywhere  understood  by  civilized  and 
savage  men,  brought  the  chief  with  all  his  people  down 
to  the  beach  to  meet  the  strangers,  who  proved  to  be 
Dutchmen  from  the  good  town  of  the  Manhadoes,  en- 
gaged in  a  trading  voyage  according  to  the  custom  of 
those  days.  A  communication  was  speedily  opened, 
and  a  brisk  exchange  commenced,  in  which  the  instinct 
of  nature  proved  a  pretty  good  match  for  the  refine- 
ments of  civilization.  The  spirit  of  trade,  indeed,  seems 
a  natural  gift  all  the  world  over.  Hearing,  in  the 
course  of  this  contest  of  nature  and  art,  that  there 
were  five  or  six  Christian  captives  on  the  island,  the 
captain,  an  honest,  good-natured  tobacco-smoking  skip- 
per, entered  into  a  negociation  for  their  redemption, 
in  which  he  found  no  great  difficulty  except  as  to  our 
hero.  They  were  loth  to  lose  the  pleasure  of  banquet- 
ing on  his  tortures  ;  but  a  case  of  genuine  Scheidam 
removed  all  scruples,  and  it  is  earnestly  hoped  the 
worthy  skipper  will  be  acquitted  even  by  the  most 
sturdy  tetotaler  on  the  score  of  his  benevolent  purpose. 
Langley  was  accordingly  unbound,  and  probably  never 
man  was  so  near  the  fire  without  scorching.  There 
can  be  little  doubt  that  he  was  grateful  to  Heaven  for 
this  timely  interposition  ;  but  as  he  offered  his  thanks 


244  THB    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

in  secret,  it  is  not  thought  proper  to  parade  them 
before  the  public,  as  is  too  much  the  fashion  in  all 
ages. 

When  the  trading  voyage  was  finished,  the  redeemed 
captives  were  carried  to  the  Manhadoes,  where  they 
were  well  received  and  hospitably  entertained,  not 
excepting  Captain  Skeering  and  his  seamen,  though 
the  Dutch  were  then  in  hot  contention  with  the 
Yankees  about  boundaries,  land  being  very  scarce  at 
that  time.  Captain  Skeering  and  his  crew  soon  found 
a  passage  home,  and  it  should  be  recorded  to  his  credit, 
that  from  this  time,  so  long  as  the  Dutch  skipper 
lived,  he  never  failed  to  send  him  a  yearly  present  of 
a  jolly  quintal  of  that  excellent  fish  ycleped  dumb. 
Nor,  to  make  an  end  of  this  special  matter,  was 
Langley  at  all  behindhand  in  demonstrations  of  grat- 
itude, for  he  kept  his  benefactor  plentifully  supplied 
with  excellent  James  River  tobacco,  till  death  broke 
his  pipe  and  extinguished  its  smoke  for  ever.  Mynheer 
Tienhoven — for  that  was  his  name — used  to  affirm 
that  he  never  puffed  the  fragrant  weed  with  so  much 
satisfaction,  for  it  always  reminded  him  of  a  Christian 
act,  which,  being  "  spiced,"  as  he  said,  with  the  delight 
of  smoking,  was  exceedingly  toothsome  to  the  nose. 

Arrived  at  the  Manhadoes,  Langley  underwent  a 
severe  struggle  as  to  the  course  he  should  pursue. 
His  heart  yearned  towards  the  east,  where  dwelt  his 
morning  star  ;  but,  in  addition  to  a  strong  feeling  of 
duty  which  prompted  him  towards  the  south,  in  order 
to  learn  the  fate  of  his  parents,  who,  he  supposed. 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  245 

must  have  long  believed  him  dead,  he  was  under 
durance  to  the  great  law  of  necessity,  which  carries 
all  before  it.  The  gentleman  vagabond  had  relieved 
him  of  all  his  money,  with  the  exception  of  some  small 
coins  which  he  carried  in  his  pocket,  which  were 
appropriated  by  the  savages,  who  bored  holes  in  them 
and  hung  them  in  their  noses  by  way  of  ornament. 
He  finally  decided  to  turn  his  face  towards  the  south ; 
ascertain  the  state  of  things  at  home,  replenish  his 
purse,  and  commence  Coelebs  again,  guided  by  the 
information  he  had  received  from  Captain  Skeering. 
Having  thus  settled  the  matter,  he  waited  impatiently 
for  an  opportunity  to  return  home,  which  he  could 
only  accomplish  by  sea.  Luckily  such  an  one  soon 
offered,  and  he  proceeded  on  his  voyage. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

Retrospect  Concluded. 

IT  was  a  pleasant  evening  of  the  early  southern  spring, 
and  the  old  Cavalier  sat  in  his  arm-chair,  on  the  piazza 
fronting  towards  the  broad  river,  breathing,  but  not 
enjoying  the  balmy  breeze  that  gently  curled  the  lazy 
waters.  But  those  who  remembered  him  as  he  onco 
was  would  scarcely  have  known  him  now.  Disease 
and  sorrow  make  sad  work  with  age.  He  had  heard 
of  the  death  of  his  son,  and  soon  after  was  seized  with 
a  severe  fit  of  the  gout,  which,  in  its  vagrant  ram- 
blings,  had  threatened  the  vital  parts.  Though  par- 
tially recovered,  he  was  weak  in  body  and  sorrowful 
in  heart.  Remorse,  too,  added  its  sting  of  scorpions, 
for  he  could  not  help  reproaching  himself  with  having 
been  at  least  accessory  to  the  death  of  his  only  son  by 
his  causeless  antipathy  to  the  Puritan's  daughter. 
Gregory  Moth,  who  now  sympathised  too  deeply  with 
his  old  master  ever  to  play  upon  his  foibles — if  grief 
had  left  him  any — was  standing  near  him,  when, 
after  a  long  pause  of  deep  thought,  the  old  Cavalier 
thus  said  to  his  ancient  dependent,  in  a  feeble,  trem- 
bling voice: 


THE    PURITAN   AND    HIS   DAUGHTER.  247 

"  Gregory,  do  you  know  what  day  this  is  ?" 

"  The  tenth  of  May,  sir,"  answered  Gregory. 

"  Yes,  I  know  that — but  do  you  know  who  was 
born  this  day  ?" 

"  Master  Langley,  sir,"  said  Gregory,  hesitatingly. 

"  Yes,  you  are  right,  Gregory.  "We  used  to  keep 
this  day  merrily.  It  was  once  a  day  of  joy,  but  now 
a  day  of  sorrow.  It  is  now  only  the  birth-day  of  the 
dead,  and  should  be  kept  not  by  merry  ringings  of 
bells,  but  doleful  tollings,  telling  of  the  departure  of 
some  one  to  his  long  home."  He  paused  awhile,  and 
then  suddenly  resumed.  "  But  perhaps  he  is  not 
dead.  It  is  not  certain  that  he  is  dead.  Perhaps  he 
may  yet  live,  for  as  yet  we  know  nothing  but  by  re- 
port, and  I  cannot  help  sometimes  thinking  I  may  yet 
see  and  bless  him  before  I  die." 

Gregory  cherished  no  such  hope  ;  but  he  could  not 
find  it  in  his  heart  to  aid  in  extinguishing  the  last 
spark  in  the  bosom  of  his  master. 

"  There  is  nothing  certain  in  this  life,  sir,  but 
death,  and  nothing  more  uncertain  than  rumor.  The 
report  we  have  heard  came  from  no  one  knows  who, 
and  from  no  one  knows  where.  The  vessel  was  lost, 
that's  certain  ;  but  it  is  not  certain  all  on  board  were 
lost  with  her.  He  was  a  good  swimmer,  and  may 
have  got  ashore  only  to  be  captured  by  the  savages 
along  the  coast.  If  so,  it  is  no  wonder  you  never 
heard  from  him.  He  may  be  yet  alive  and  return." 

This  suggestion  seemed  to  reanimate  the  old  Cava- 
lier, and  he  exclaimed,  eagerly,  "  True,  Gregory, 


248  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

true.  "Why  have  I  not  thought  of  this  before  ?  I  will 
send  in  pursuit  of  him.  I  will  hire  a  vessel  and  go 
myself.  I  will  scour  the  country  far  and  near.  I — 
I — "  and  here  he  sank  back  exhausted  in  his  chair, 
panting  for  breath. 

At  this  moment  Gregory  descried  a  boat  crossing 
the  river,  paddled  by  two  negroes,  with  a  third  person 
sitting  at  the  stern.  The  boat  approached  the  shore 
opposite  to  the  house  ;  as  she  struck  the  land,  the  man 
in  the  stern  leapt  out,  and  sped  towards  the  house  in 
all  haste.  It  was  still  bright  twilight,  and  Gregory  at 
once  recognised  the  person  approaching.  He  began  to 
mutter  almost  unintelligibly,  "Master!  Master!  he  is 
coming — he — he  is  here.  M — M — Master  Langley 
is—" 

"  Who  did  you  say  ?"  asked  the  Cavalier,  feebly. 

""Who  is  come— did  you  not  say  something  of 
Langley  ?  Speak,  varlet,  who  is  coming  or  who  is 
come  ?" 

"  It  is  I,  father,"  cried  Langley,  grasping  his 
trembling  hand.  It  is  your  son  come  back  to  receive 
your  blessing." 

The  old  Cavalier  recognised  the  voice  of  his  son, 
and  opened  his  arms  to  receive  him.  He  could  not 
bless  him,  for  his  voice  was  gone.  But  he  pressed 
him  in  his  arms,  and  old  as  he  was,  shed  tears  of  joy. 
The  meeting  with  his  mother  need  not  be  described. 
It  was  like  that  of  a  mother  of  the  old  patriarchs,  wel- 
coming the  son  of  her  affections,  who  was  dead  but  is 
alive  again. 


THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS  DAUGHTER.  249 

Now  all  was  life  and  joy  under  the  roof  of  the  old 
Cavalier,  who  became  once  more  splenetic,  and  Gre- 
gory logical.  In  short  they  were  at  least  four  times 
as  happy  as  they  would  have  been  had  they  never 
been  miserable.  Among  the  dregs  of  the  cup  of  cala- 
mity are  found  the  grains  of  gold  dust,  that  enrich 
us  ever  afterwards,  if  we  make  a  right  use  of  them. 
But  we  cannot  dwell  on  this  picture,  which  indeed 
soon  faded  ;  for  we  are  impatient  to  return  to  our 
heroine,  who  was  left  in  such  imminent  jeopardy. 
Suffice  it  to  say  that  grief  treads  on  the  heels  of  joy, 
even  as  joy  does  on  those  of  sorrow.  The  bucket  that 
goes  down  the  well  empty  comes  up  full,  and  that 
which  comes  up  full  goes  down  empty.  So  rolls  this 
changing  world,  and  so  let  it  roll,  since  all  is  for  the 
best,  as  wise  ones  say. 

The  light  that  flashed  from  the  old  Cavalier  on  the 
return  of  his  lost  child  was  as  the  last  ray  of  the  sun 
when  it  sinks  behind  the  hills.  His  old  enemy,  the 
gout,  roused  up  by  the  agitation  of  the  enfeebled  mind 
and  wasted  body,  made  a  second  inroad,  and  took  pos- 
session of  the  citadel  of  life.  He  struck  the  victim  on 
the  head  and  the  blow  was  mortal.  The  old  Cavalier 
had  reached  the  great  Inn,  where  all  the  travellers  of 
the  earth  sooner  or  later  take  up  their  last  night's 
lodging.  Let  him  rest  in  peace  and  no  one  disturb 
his  ashes. 

After  all  due  sacrifices  to  filial  duty,  Langley  took 
occasion  to  intimate  to  his  mother  his  intention  of 
making  another  attempt  to  see  Miriam  Habingdon. 
11* 


250  THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS    DAUGHTER. 

That  excellent  woman,  who  had  a  strange  habit  of 
forgetting  that  important  being,  self,  at  once  acqui- 
esced ;  and  leaving  Gregory,  who,  on  this  occasion, 
grievously  anathematized  the  Crop-ears,  to  manage 
affairs  out  of  doors,  he  set  forth  on  his  pilgrimage, 
as  usual,  by  sea.  Arriving  safely  at  Boston,  he  lost  no 
time  in  proceeding  on  his  journey,  which  he  accom- 
plished without  accident,  just  in  time  to  see  Miriam 
in  a  similar  predicament  with  that  from  which  he 
was  rescued  by  the  philanthropy  of  Skipper  Tienhoven. 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

Poor  Miriam  Habingdon  ! — All  Human  Means  of  no  Avail — A  Last 
Interview. 

SCARCELY  had  Langley  Tyringham  finished  the  story 
which  we  have  thus  abridged  in  our  own  words, 
when  the  jailer  came  in  and  apprised  him  it  was  time 
to  depart.  He  took  leave  of  the  forlorn  girl  with  feel- 
ings of  pity,  love  and  anguish,  that  almost  sundered 
his  heart,  and  cleft  his  brain  asunder.  Sleepless  and 
miserable  he  occupied  the  livelong  night  in  devising 
means  of  rescuing  her  who  he  had  found  at  last  only 
to  lose  again  forever,  by  means  he  shuddered  to  real- 
ize. At  length  it  occurred  to  him  to  seek  an  inter- 
view with  Old  Cat,  in  the  hope  of  obtaining  some  clue 
that  might  guide  him  in  one  more  effort  to  avert  the 
fate  of  Miriam.  "Waiting  impatiently  for  the  morning 
he  proceeded  to  the  prison,  and  was  admitted  without 
hesitation  by  the  keeper,  who  had  no  orders  to  the 
contrary,  and  who,  in  truth,  began  to  feel  no  small 
sympathy  in  the  fate  of  Miriam,  whose  sweetness  of 
disposition  and  quiet  resignation  had  touched  his 
heart.  He  showed  Langley  into  the  room  occupied 
by  the  old  woman,  and  left  them  together. 

Langley  found  her  in  a  state  of  great  discontent 


252  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

and  impatience.  Instead  of  being  released,  as  Tobias 
assured  her  she  would  be  by  casting  the  burden  of  her 
supposed  guilt  on  another,  she  had  not  only  been 
remanded  to  prison  but  was  assured  by  the  jailer  that 
her  confession  had  only  rendered  her  punishment  more 
certain.  She  was  muttering  to  herself  a  strange  jar- 
gon, of  which  Larigley  could  comprehend  little  but  the 
name  of  Tobias  Harpsfield,  with  whom  she  seemed 
greatly  dissatisfied.  By  perseverance  and  coaxing  he 
drew  out  of  her  sufficient  to  enable  him  to  compre- 
hend that  the  poor  old  creature  had  in  some  way  or 
other  been  employed  and  deceived  by  Tobias.  With 
unwearied  patience  he  questioned  and  listened,  until 
step  by  step  he  came  to  a  full  understanding  of  the 
foul  conspiracy  against  Miriam.  Feeling  perfectly 
justified  in  a  case  like  this,  he  affected  great  sympathy 
for  her,  and  more  sincere  indignation  against  Tobias, 
for  not  interposing  in  her  behalf  as  he  had  promised. 
Finally,  he  urged  her,  as  the  best  means  of  escaping 
the  fate  which  certainly  awaited  her,  to  make  a  full 
confession  before  the  magistrate.  To  this  she  finally 
consented,  and  Langley,  with  a  heavy  burden  removed 
from  his  heart,  immediately  proceeded  to  the  court 
room,  where  the  magistrates  were  now  almost  con- 
stantly in  session,  listening  to  new  tales  of  witchcraft, 
which  had  so  increased  in  number  and  extravagance, 
that  they  began  to  be  alarmed  at  the  new  and  terrible 
responsibilities  continually  cast  upon  them.  It  seemed 
as  if  the  entire  community  was  about  to  be  involved 
in  the  crime  of  witchcraft. 


THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS   DAUGHTER.  253 

On  the  representation  of  Langley,  they  consented 
that  Old  Cat  should  be  brought  before  them  for  exam- 
ination, and  when  she  arrived,  listened  to  her  confes- 
sion with  great  gravity.  A  short  consultation  ensued, 
in  which  the  pastor,  who  constantly  attended  these 
meetings  as  a  sort  of  spiritual  counsellor,  being  still 
led  captive  by  the  demon  of  superstition,  which  equally 
hoodwinks  the  mind  and  hardens  the  heart,  took  the 
lead.  He  stated  as  his  decided  opinion  that  this  con- 
fession of  Old  Cat  was  nothing  more  than  one  of  the 
cunning  devices  of  the  devil  to  screen  a  favored  disci- 
ple from  merited  punishment.  He  observed  there  was 
no  end  to  the  arts  of  the  great  enemy  of  man ;  and 
that  most  especially  in  these  times,  when  doubtless 
for  the  punishment  of  the  transgressions  of  the  people, 
who  had  permitted  divers  heresies  and  schisms  to 
grow  up  among  them,  the  whole  host  of  evil  spirits 
had,  as  it  were,  been  let  loose  upon  the  land,  he  would 
resort  to  every  device  of  diabolical  ingenuity  in  behalf 
of  those  he  seduced  into  his  toils.  This  reasoning,  so 
suited  to  the  times  and  the  hearers,  prevailed.  The 
testimony  which  had  been  thought  sufficient  to  con- 
vict, was  declared  insufficient  to  acquit  poor  Miriam, 
and  the  Old  Cat  was  once  more  remanded  to  prison, 
muttering  maledictions  against  the  whole  world,  most 
especially  Tobias  Harpsfield.  Langley  Tyringham, 
who,  until  now,  had  not  been  fully  aware  of  the  stata 
to  which  the  minds  of  these  pious,  well-meaning  men 
had  been  wrought  by  this  terrible  delusion,  was 
stricken  with  disgust  and  horror  at  this  perversion  of 


254  THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS   DAUGHTER. 

justice  and  humanity.  He  now,  for  the  first  time, 
became  fully  sensible  of  the  desperate  situation  of 
Miriam,  ,and  felt  the  leaden  hand  of  numb  despair 
oppressing  the  vigor  of  his  body,  as  well  as  the  ener- 
gies of  his  mind.  "  Alas  !"  thought  he,  "  what  possi- 
ble chance  is  there  that  light  should  penetrate  the 
deep  gloom  in  which  both  reason  and  humanity  seem 
alike  buried  forever.  There  is  no  hope  for  innocence 
when  both  religion  and  law  combine  for  its  destruc- 
tion. No  hope — no  refuge — ha  !"  A  sudden  thought 
seemed  to  strike  him,  and  rushing  out  of  the  court  he 
bent  his  way  to  the  place  where  he  had  taken  lodg- 
ings. Here  he  loaded  his  pistols  carefully,  and  con- 
cealing them  about  his  person,  proceeded  rapidly  to 
the  abode  of  Tobias  Harpsfield,  at  the  door  of  which 
he  knocked  impetuously.  A  female  answered  the 
summons,  from  whom  he  learned  Tobias  was  not  at 
home.  He  had  been  absent  several  days,  and  left  no 
word  where  he  was  going,  or  when  he  would  return. 
"  The  last  staff  is  broken — be  it  so — we  will  die 
together !"  murmured  Langley,  as  he  staggered  to- 
wards home.  Convinced  of  the  guilt  of  Tobias,  and 
equally  certain  that  none  but  a  base  coward  could 
have  hatched  such  a  conspiracy  against  a  lonely 
orphan  girl,  he  had  determined  to  force  him  to  confes- 
sion through  his  dastard  fears,  in  the  expectation  that 
it  would  have  more  weight  than  that  of  the  old 
woman.  But  he  was  gone,  and  now  nothing  less  than 
a  miracle  could  save  her  who  had  twined  herself  about 


THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS   DAUGHTER.  255 

his  heart  a  thousand  times  more  closely  than  ever  by 
the  double  tie  of  love  and  pity. 

The  day  had  been  spent  in  these  unavailing  efforts, 
and  it  was  evening  ere  he  could  visit  Miriam,  the  last 
they  were  to  pass  together.  She  had  not  wondered  at 
his  absence,  feeling  assured  that  he  labored  in  her 
behalf.  As  he  approached,  she  gently  yielded  herself 
to  his  outstretched  arms,  and  looking  in  his  face,  softly 
said,  "  To-morrow  another  bridegroom  will  come,  and 
I  must  go  with  him.  Till  then,  Langley,  I  am  wholly 
thine." 

"  Miriam,"  said  he,  as  he  held  her  closely  to  his 
heart,  "  think  you  that  death  shall  ever  part  us  ?" 

"  But  for  a  season,  I  trust — not  forever." 

"  Not  for  a  moment — we  part  no  more." 

"  I  understand  thee,  Langley,"  said  Miriam,  quietly 
withdrawing  from  his  arms.  "  Sit  down  by  me  and 
let  us  talk  together.  Thou  hast  a  mother  still  living 
— hast  thou  not  ?" 

Langley  answered  in  the  affirmative,  and  she  pro- 
ceeded : 

"  I  know  full  well,  thou  hast  enough  of  what  men 
call  courage,  or  thou  wouldst  never  have  been  the 
chosen  of  my  heart.  Thou  hast  the  courage  to  die  ; 
but  I  exact  of  thee  the  courage  to  live.  Could  thy 
death  preserve  my  life,  there  might  be  some  motive  for 
offering  up  the  sacrifice.  But  to  die  with  me,  or  fol- 
low after,  would  be  to  sacrifice  thyself  on  the  altar  of 
cowardice.  If  thou  indeed  lovest  me,  thou  must  obey 
me  and  live." 


256  THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS    DAUGHTER. 

"  For  what  should  I  live  ?"  asked  he  gloomily. 

"•Live  for  the  performance  of  those  high  and  noble 
duties  for  which  man  was  sent  into  this  world,  gifted 
with  qualities  which  enable  him  to  administer  to  the 
welfare  of  his  fellow  creatures.  Live  for  thy  country, 
which  demands  thy  services,  and  merits  thy  devotion. 
Live  for  thy  widowed  mother,  who,  now  in  the  vale  of 
tears,  will  by  thy  death  be  robbed  of  her  only  stay 
and  staff  in  this  world.  Live  for  me,  Langley  ;  for 
when  thou  art  dead,  there  will  be  none  to  remem- 
ber that  I  ever  existed.  Thou  wilt  be  as  a  tomb  to 
my  memory  ;  for  while  thou  livest,  I  know  I  shall  not 
be  forgotten.  But  thy  parent,  thine  only  parent, 
think  of  her.  The  ties  which  bind  the  mother  and 
the  child  are  more  holy  than  those  of  love.  Live, 
then,  and  prove  thyself  worthy  of  mine." 

"  I  am  glad  you  do  not  wish  me  to  forget  you,"  said 
Langley,  a  little  reproachingly. 

"No—no — no — never !  I  wish  thee  to  remember  me 
for  ever  in  this  life,  and  if  possible  in  the  life  to  come 
— as  one  who  loved  thee  with  all  the  depth  and  purity 
of  woman's  first  and  only  love  ;  as  one  who,  when 
time  shall  have  smoothed  the  rough  furrows  of  grief, 
thou  canst  call  to  mind  without  reproach  and  without 
remorse.  Let  it  be  your  consolation,  that  you  never 
sought  to  lure  me  from  the  path  of  duty — never  suf- 
fered thy  selfish  wishes  to  interfere  with  my  painful 
self-denial,  nor  ever  wilfully  inflicted  a  pang  on  my 
heart.  Thus,  there  will  assuredly  come  a  time  when 
thou  wilt  remember  poor  Miriam ;  it  may  be  with  sor- 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  257 

row,  but  it  will  be  a  sweet  and  gentle  sorrow,  soften- 
ing not  corroding  thy  heart,  and  free  from  all  the 
bitterness  of  self-reproach.  0  !  if  it  be  permitted  me 
to  look  down  and  see  thee  thus,  it  will  add  to  my  joys 
in  the  regions  above." 

"  Miriam,  Miriam !"  cried  Langley,  "  is  this  the 
way  you  would  reconcile  me  to  losing  you  ?  J)o  you 
think  I  can  see  you  dying  a  death  of  infamy; — for  so  it 
will  be  in  the  eyes  of  all  spectators  but  mine— do  you 
think  I  can  see  you  suffer  an  innocent  victim  to  a 
blind  and  bloody  superstition  ?  It  cannot  be — it  is  not 
in  man  to  bear  it.  I  should  go  mad,  and  run  a  muck 
against  all  mankind.  Having  tried  every  means  to 
avert  your  doom,  I  will  die  with  you." 

"  Thou  art  then  a  coward,  Langley.  I  would  not 
have  believed  it.  Thou  wilt  deny  my  last  request, 
and  yet  pretendest  to  love  me.  Thou  wouldst  add  to 
the  pains  of  death  the  last  and  bitterest  pang.  Cruel 
Langley,  I  did  not  expect  this  of  thee ;"  and  now  for 
the  first  time  she  wept,  and  sobbed  aloud.  Langley 
could  not  stand  this,  and  replied — 

"  Be  satisfied,*  dearest  love.  I  promise  to  bear  my 
burden  till  it  crushes  me." 

She  thanked  him  gratefully,  and  for  a  brief  period 
they  both  remained  silent,  absorbed  in  deep  reflection. 
At  length  Langley  suddenly  rose,  and  closely  scruti- 
nized the  window,  together  with  every  part  of  the 
room.  "It  is  impossible,  at  any  rate  it  is  too  late 
now,"  said  he,  and  resumed  his  seat  again. 

"  I  was  thinking,"  said  Miriam,  almost  cheerfully, 


258  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

"  how  little  space  I  occupy  in  this  world,  and  how  few 
will  miss  me  when  I  am  gone.  I  was  plucked  up  by 
the  roots  from  my  native  soil,  and  have  taken  no  root 
here.  I  am  the  last  of  a  race  that,  if  I  may  believe 
our  family  chronicle,  had  existed  on  the  same  spot 
eight  hundred  years.  I  shall  perish  here  in  this  lonely 
corner  of  the  earth,  without  being  missed  by  any  but 
you — for  poor  old  Mildred  has  forsaken  me  since  I  be- 
came a  witch — and  the  false  and  foolish  stigma  on  my 
fame  will  soon  be  buried  in  forgetfulness.  Why  then 
should  I  fear  to  die  ?  Death  would  perhaps  be  a  hard- 
ship were  it  not  the  common  lot  of  all  the  living.  We 
all  follow  in  the  same  track,  and  soon  overtake  each 
other.  But  I  had  forgotten.  I  have  a  request  to 
make  thee,  Langley.  It  is,  that  when  thou  goest 
home,  thou  wilt  entreat  thy  mother  to  call  me  her 
daughter  Miriam.  Wilt  thou  ?" 

"  I  will"  replied  he,  in  a  voice  choking  with  agony. 

The  jailer  now  summoned  Langley  to  depart.  It 
was  as  the  knell  of  death,  and  both  stood  silent  and 
immovable.  At  length  Miriam  said — as  to  herself — 
"  It  must  be,  and  it  must  be  borne."  Then  once  more 
voluntarily  yielding  to  his  arms,  she  spoke  her  last 
farewell. 

"  Not  for  ever,"  faltered  he,  "  I  will  be  with  you  in 
your  last  moments — I  will  see  you  die — perhaps  your 
example  may  give  me  courage  to  live." 

"  Thou  canst  not  bear  it,  dearest  Langley." 

"  Perhaps  my  heart  will  burst.     So  much  the  better. 


THE    PURITAN    AND   HIS   DAUGHTER.  259 

But  do  not  attempt  to  dissuade  me,  for  so  help  me 
Heaven  I  will  be  with  you." 

The  jailer  repeated  the  summons  ;  Langley  tore  him- 
self away  to  spend  the  rest  of  the  night  in  wandering 
about  like  some  guilty  spectre,  and  Miriam  to  sink 
into  that  profound  sleep  which  is  the  blessed  refuge  of 
mind  and  body,  when  exhausted  by  conflicting  strug- 
gles. 

you  one  who  will  be  the  solace  of  your  age  for  long 
years  to  come." 

"  Amen  !  "  said  the  old  cavalier,  and  they  parted. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

The  Last  Scenes  in  the  Drama. 

THE  sun  rose  clear  and  bright  that  morning,  and  the 
balmy  airs  of  summer,  as  they  gently  fanned  the 
flowers,  the  meadows,  and  the  whispering  woods,  were 
as  pure  as  the  blameless  spirit  now  about  to  take 
flight  to  the  region  of  kindred  spirits.  A  shower  of 
rain  which  occurred  during  the  night  had  left  the  at- 
mosphere so  transparently  clear,  that  every  object  pre- 
sented itself  distinctly,  while  all  together  formed 
one  beautiful  and  perfect  harmony.  The  distant 
mountains  seemed  to  have  come  more  near,  and  every 
thing  in  nature  glowed  in  its  morning  loveliness.  It 
was  one  of  those  days  so  gracefully  sketched  by  an 
old  poet, 

"  Sweet  day,  so  calm,  so  clear,  so  bright, 

"  The  bridal  of  the  earth  and  sky, 
"  Soft  dews  shall  weep  thy  fall  to-night, 

"  For  thou  must  die." 

The  river,  gilded  by  the  rays  of  the  morning  sun, 
coursed  its  graceful,  lazy,  winding  way,  through  the 


THE    PURITAN   AND   HIS   DAUGHTER.  261 

wide-spreading  meadows  sprinkled  with  many-colored 
flowers ;  the  merry  minstrels  of  the  morning  caroled 
a  welcome  to  the  blushing  visitor ;  and  every  sight, 
and  every  sound,  mingled  together  in  all  the  wondrous 
harmony  of  cunning  nature.  All  was  repose,  sleeping 
in  infant  smiles,  save  the  ever  restless  passions  of  that 
reasoning  worm  called  man,  whose  bosom,  like  the  un- 
bridled ocean,  now  foams  in  wrathful  tempests,  now 
settles  in  a  still,  delusive  calm,  meditating  a  wider  de- 
vastation. 

Langley,  after  passing  the  night  without  rest  or 
shelter,  appeared  before  Miriam  that  morning  looking 
the  picture  of  desolation.  His  garments,  saturated 
with  the  rain,  clung  to  his  body,  and  both  his  person 
and  face  exhibited  the  ravages  of  despair.  He  found 
her  clothed,  as  she  said,  in  her  wedding  garment  of 
spotless  white,  calmly  awaiting  the  bridegroom  death. 
The  hour  was  too  solemn  for  the  endearments  of  love  ; 
and  little  was  said  as  they  sat  with  their  hands  locked 
in  each  other,  awaiting  the  appointed  hour.  Miriam 
had  begged  him  to  go  and  change  his  wet  garments, 
but  he  turned  away  impatiently,  as  if  indignant  that 
she  should  think  of  such  trifles  at  such  a  moment.  A 
tear,  which  her  own  approaching  fate  could  not  draw, 
was  wrung  from  her  heart  by  pity  for  another. 

The  signal  was  now  given.  They  rose,  embraced, 
kissed,  and  once  more,  and,  for  the  last  time,  bade 
farewell.  A  procession  was  formed,  headed  by  the 
magistrates  and  the  pastor,  and  in  the  midst  walked 
Langley  and  Miriam,  hand  in  hand,  to  the  spot  where 


262  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

the  victim  was  to  be  offered  up  to  the  dark  demon  of 
superstition.  A  crowd  had  gathered  together,  drawn 
by  that  strange  feeling  of  mingled  terror  and  curiosity 
which  hurries  so  many  thousands  to  witness  scenes 
that  scare  their  nightly  pillow  long  after  with  spectres 
of  fearful  identity.  Various  were  the  impressions  and 
whispered  comments  of  the  spectators  on  the  appear- 
ance of  Miriam  in  her  snowy  gown,  with  a  face  almost 
as  white,  and  a  still,  calm  air  of  resignation  that  some 
said  looked  like  innocence.  Others  maintained  it  was 
more  like  hardened  guilt ;  some  beheld  her  with  pity, 
others  with  shuddering  antipathy,  and  a  majority  with 
holy  horror.  Of  the  stranger  holding  her  hand  and 
expressing  in  every  lineament  of  his  face  feelings  they 
could  not  define,  it  seemed  the  prevailing  opinion  he 
was  nothing  less  than  her  familiar  spirit  in  the  disguise 
of  a  handsome  youth. 

Things  remained  in  this  state  for  some  time,  for 
there  seemed  an  unwillingness  to  proceed  to  the  last 
act.  At  length  the  pastor  approached  her  and  proposed 
that  they  should  join  in  prayer  together.  Miriam 
replied,  "  Thou  hast  not  been  my  friend,  but  1  will 
pray  with  thee  and  for  thee ;"  and  their  prayers 
ascended  together.  As  he  heard  her  pronounce  with 
deep  'devotion  that  name,  which,  according  to  universal 
conviction,  could  not  be  uttered  by  the  unhallowed 
lips  of  the  possessed  of  the  devil,  the  well-meaning 
but  misguided  man  looked  in  her  face  intently,  and 
saw  there  such  an  expression  of  mingled  piety,  inno- 
cence and  resignation,  as  shook  his  settled  conviction 


THE    PURITAN   AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.    '  263 

of  her  depravity.  Painful  doubts  flitted  across  his 
mind  for  a  moment,  but  it  was  only  an  eddy  of  the 
tide,  and  the  current  again  resumed  its  wonted  direc- 
tion. 

Miriam  was  now  to  be  placed  on  the  cart,  where  no 
coffin  appeared  according  to  custom,  for  these  abhorred 
reprobates  were  buried  without  coffins,  in  highways, 
least  they  should  contaminate  the  church-yards.  It 
was  necessary  the  hands  of  Miriam  and  Langley  should 
be  unclasped,  and  when  this  was  done,  it  was  as  if  the 
last  tie  was  severed.  Her  last  words,  as  she  drew  her 
hand  from  his,  were,  "  Langley,  take  care  of  poor  old 
Mildred.  She  has  indeed  deserted  me,  but .  it  was 
from  fear,  not  for  want  of  affection  to  me.  Take  her 
with  thee  when  thou  goest  home."  Langley  did  not 
answer ;  he  remained  fixed  like  a  statue  in  numb 
despair ;  his  feelings  were  so  intense  that  he  had  be- 
come almost  unconscious  of  feeling.  His  eye  glared 
around  like  one  walking  in  sleep,  and  it  was  evident 
that  he  had  no  distinct  perception  of  what  was  passing 
around  him.  The  heart  of  Miriam  bled  when  she 
divined  his  sad  case,  but  she  thought,  "It  is  best  it 
should  be  so — best  for  both  of  us." 

The  moment  was  come.  The  sheriff,  with  trem- 
bling hands,  tied  the  fatal  knot,  and  then  stood  wait- 
ing the  signal  from  the  magistrates.  The  crowd 
remained  in  breathless  silence,  oppressed  by  a  growing 
conviction  of  her  innocence  ;  the  magistrates  hesitated 
to  give  the  signal,  and  the  pastor  heard  the  still,  small 
voice  whisper  that  he  must  hold  himself  accountable 


264  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

for  his  share  of  that  day's  work.  At  this  moment, 
when  the  fate  of  Miriam  hung  by  a  single  hair,  Tobias 
Harpsfield,  who,  driven  by  the  lash  of  the  fiends,  had 
returned  that  morning  and  mingled  in  the  crowd, 
attracted  the  attention  of  those  around  him  by  the 
agitation  he  displayed.  Struggling  in  the  bonds  of 
guilt  and  fear,  and  goaded  on  one  hand  by  conscience, 
on  the  other  by  shame ;  shaking  with  agony  at  thus 
beholding  the  end  of  his  machinations,  he  stood  in  a 
state  of  horrible  irresolution,  panting  and  perspiring — 
now  suddenly  pushing  the  crowd  before  him,  and  then 
as  suddenly  retreating.  At  length,  with  a  desperate 
effort  he  rushed  forward,  shouting  aloud — "  Stop ! 
stop  !  she  is  innocent — halter  me — hang  me, '  for  I 
alone  am  guilty.  She  is  no  witch.  It  was  I  that 
bribed  the  old  woman  to  accuse  this  innocent  maiden, 
whose  murderer  I  shall  be  if  she  perishes.  Give  me 
the  book  and  let  me  testify  to  the  truth  of  what  I  say, 
and  then  give  me  a  halter,  for  I  have  lately  suffered 
ten  times  worse  than  death." 

A  few  words  will  explain  the  appearance  and  conduct 
of  Tobias  Harpsfield.  As  stated  in  a  preceding  chapter, 
he  had,  after  finding  all  his  efforts  to  rescue  Miriam, 
from  the  web  he  himself  had  woven,  vain,  left  the 
settlement  in  a  state  of  mind  that  might  have  awakened 
pity  for  any  other  than  such  a  base,  unmanly  villain. 
Lashed  by  guilt  and  fear,  the  twin  executioners,  who 
inflict  justice  on  secret  crimes,  he  roamed  about,  bearing 
a  load  of  misery  becoming  every  hour  more  difficult 
to  carry.  As  the  time  drew  near  and  nearer  that  was 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  265 

to  consummate  his  villany  by  the  sacrifice  of  his 
victim,  his  struggles  became  more  bitter.  That  self- 
ishness which  had  been  his  ruling  principle  through 
life  impelled  him  on  to  undo  what  he  had  done,  not  so 
much  to  make  all  the  atonement  in  his  power,  but 
that  he  might  rid  himself  of  the  sting  of  remorse, 
which  he  felt  would  follow  the  death  of  Miriam.  He 
returned  home  irresolute ;  he  attended  at  the  execu- 
tion, still  irresolute,  and  he  remained  irresolute  to  the 
last,  when  remorse  finally  conquered  shame,  and  he 
rushed  fonvard  at  the  critical  moment,  as  just  related. 
The  timely  repentance  of  Tobias  arrested  the  exe- 
cution. The  magistrates,  after  receiving  his  confession 
in  legal  form,  and  consulting  their  oracle,  the  pastor, 
decided  it  was  sufficient  for  the  acquittal  of  Miriam, 
being  in  all  respects  corroborated  by  that  of  the  old 
woman.  Besides,  Tobias  labored  under  no  suspicion 
of  witchcraft,  and  his  testimony  was  therefore  con- 
sidered orthodox.  But  there  was  something  yet  behind 
all  this.  The  truth  is,  some  occurrences  had  taken 
place  within  a  few  hours  past  that  had  a  powerful 
influence  in  bringing  about  this  decision.  The  mania 
of  witchcraft  was  spreading  like  a  pestilence ;  accu- 
sations poured  in  from  all  quarters,  the  product  of 
hatred,  envy,  malice,  revenge,  or  superstition ;  and 
the  very  evening  before  the  events  just  related,  the 
wives  of  the  pastor  and  of  one  of  the  magistrates  had 
been  denounced  as  dealing  in  certain  mystical  demon- 
strations, by  one  of  their  neighbors,  either  from  malice 
or  possibly  with  a  view  of  arresting  .the  persecution 

VOL.    II.  12 


266  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

by  bringing  it  home  to  the  persecutors.  However  this 
may  be,  the  question  was  now  brought  to  their  own 
firesides  and  presented  itself  in  a  new  aspect.  They 
now  began  to  apprehend  they  might  themselves  become 
victims  to  the  panic  they  had  thus  fostered,  and  had, 
each  one  unknown  to  the  other,  tacitly  resolved  to  set 
their  faces  against  it  in  future.  The  pastor,  too,  had, 
as  before  stated,  been  for  a  moment  shaken  in  his 
conviction  of  the  guilt  of  our  heroine,  by  the  apparent 
sincerity  of  her  devotion,  and  the  magistrates,  to  do 
them  justice,  had  recoiled  from  this  last  practical 
demonstration  of  the  fatal  consequences  of  this  sense- 
less, cruel  superstition. 

They  therefore  hailed  with  pleasure  so  fair  an  oppor- 
tunity of  arresting  a  delusion  which  had  now  involved 
their  own  families,  and  accordingly  promptly  and 
unanimously  decreed  the  release  of  Miriam.  She  had 
heard  the  declaration  of  Tobias,  and  during  the  dread- 
ful pause  of  suspense  had  suffered  more  than  when 
utterly  hopeless  of  relief.  Langley,  too,  "had  been 
roused  by  the  Same  voice  from  his  deadly  stupor,  and 
his  first  impulse  was  to  rush  towards  Tobias  and  tear 
him  to  pieces.  But  he  was  forcibly  restrained  by  the 
attending  peace  officers  ;  and  when  her  acquittal  was 
announced,  ran  to  the  cart,  untied  the  knot,  received 
her  in  his  arms,  and  almost  carried  her  home.  Here 
the  first  moments  were  consecrated  to  love,  the  next 
to  pious  gratitude ;  and  the  hours  that  succeeded 
almost  made  amends  for  those  that  went  before  this 
timely  reprieve  from  a  death  of  infamy. 


THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER.  267 

The  present  abode  of  Miriam  was  associated  with 
too  many  painful  recollections  to  render  her  desirous  of 
remaining,  and  she  readily  consented  to  accompany 
Langley  to  the  sunny  South,  there  to  be  united  in  the 
presence  of  a  new  mother.  Accompanied  by  Mildred, 
who  continued  for  a  long  time  rather  shy  of  her  mis- 
tress, after  a  parting  visit  to  the  graves  of  her  parents, 
she  set  out  on  her  third  and  last  pilgrimage.  The  few 
years  that  had  elapsed  since  she  passed  through  the 
wilderness  with  her  parents,  had  produced  some  of 
those  wonders  which  the  industry  and  enterprise  of 
men  achieve  in  this  our  New  World,  which  still  con- 
tinues to  advance  like  the  giant  with  his  seven-league 
boots,  while  the  Old  remains  the  cotemporary  of  past 
ages,  and  may  be  said  to  live  in  its  ancient  renown. 
Towns  had  been  founded,  forests  cleared,  and  roads 
made,  so  that  their  journey  to  Boston  was  neither 
fatiguing  or  tedious.  From  thence  they  voyaged  by 
sea  to  the  capital  of  Virginia,  and  reached  home  with- 
out accident.  Here  Miriam  was  received  by  Mistress 
Tyringham  with  the  welcome  of  an  affectionate  mo- 
ther, and  in  due  time  pledged  her  vows  to  him  who 
had  so  long  possessed  her  heart. 

Those  feelings  of  religious  and  political  antipathy 
which  had  alienated  their  fathers,  and  caused  so  much 
suffering  to  their  children,  did  not  take  root  in  the  soil 
of  mutual  love.  It  would  seem  that  civil  and  religious 
liberty  are  twin  sisters,  and  cannot  be  divorced  from 
each  other.  Hence  America — we  mean  the  United 
States,  the  legitimate  representative  of  the  New  World 


268  THE    PURITAN    AKD    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

— is  not  the  soil  or  genial  clime  for  bigotry  and  perse- 
cution ;  and  it  is  earnestly  to  be  hoped  it  will  be  long, 
very  long,  before  the  blood-stained  fiend  of  persecution 
and  intolerance,  which  has  perpetrated  more  revolting 
cruelties  than  ambition,  avarice,  or  revenge,  rears  its 
Grorgon  head  over  the  ruins  of  liberty  of  conscience. 

Both  Miriam  and  Langley  were  stricken  deer.  They 
had  equally  felt  the  barbed  arrow  tipt  with  poison, 
and  shrunk  from  the  hand  by  which  it  was  launched. 
Miriam  was  actually  married  by  a  minister  of  the 
Established  Church — there  being  at  that  time  no  other 
mode  of  wedding  in  Virginia — and  thought  the  vows 
she  pledged  and  received  as  binding  as  if  they  had 
been  offered  at  a  different  shrine.  Nay,  when  after- 
wards asked  by  her  husband  if  she  wished  to  accom- 
pany him  to  the  only  church  in  the  neighborhood, 
which  was  Episcopal,  she  modestly  replied,  "  I  have 
EO  scruple  in  worshipping  with  Christians  in  any 
Christian  church."  Those  who  confound  bigotry  with 
piety,  and  mistake  the  venom  of  sectarianism  for  the 
healing  balm  of  religion,  will  doubtless  accuse  our 
heroine  of  backsliding  ;  but  that  which  makes  woman, 
or  man  either,  more  mild  and  tolerant  towards  others 
of  a  different  sect,  or  more  ready  to  exchange  the 
offices  of  kind  benevolence  with  them,  cannot  be 
wrong,  by  whatever  name  it  may  be  called.  And  this 
is  the  moral  of  our  tale. 

The  new  and  endearing  ties  of  wife  and  mother 

'  /gradually  moulded  Miriam  into  something  less  solemn 

and   abstracted.      Though  she  never  became  a   gay 


THE    PURITAN    AND    KIS    DAUGHTER.  269 

woman,  she  did  not  lack  a  cheerful  spriteliness,  that 
shed  a  pleasant  light  around  the  fireside;  and  though 
not  less  pious,  she  was  more  tolerant  of  the  piety  of 
others,  though  exhibited  in  a  different  guise.  Her 
early  instilled  prejudices  against  other  sects  were  gra- 
dually absorbed  by  the  mild,  forgiving  spirit  of  Chris- 
tianity, whose  basis  is  the  universal  brotherhood  of 
mankind.  "Without  being  gay  herself,  she  enjoyed 
the  innocent  gaiety  of  others ;  never  railed  at  youth- 
ful sports  or  recreations  because  she  did  not  choose  to 
partake  in  them  ;  nor  did  she  ever  turn  with  sour 
ingratitude  from  the  bounties  spread  out  before  her  by 
a  beneficent  Creator.  Her  most  common  and  natural 
mood  was  a  quiet  gentleness ;  and  no  one  ignorant  of 
her  story  ever  suspected  the  latent  enthusiasm ;  the 
energetic  purpose  ;  the  obstinate,  unyielding  sense  of 
right ;  that  lay  dormant  under  the  yielding  softness, 
the  mild  benignity,  the  smiling  acquiescence,  of  the 
Puritan's  daughter. 

Honest  Gregory  Moth  was  still  alive  and  flourishing 
on  the  return  of  his  master,  and  survived  years  after- 
wards. He  sometimes  indulged  his  vein,  by  singing 
his  favorite  song  of  "  Barnaby,  Barnaby,  thou'st  been 
drinking,"  and  often  frightened  Groody  Mildred  by 
affirming,  with  his  usual  gravity,  that,  logically  speak- 
ing, her  young  mistress  had  certainly  bewitched  him, 
for  he  would  do  anything  but  run  into  danger  for  her. 
Langley,  too,  in  their  hours  of  chaste  endearment, 
which  actually  outlived  a  month,  often  accused  her  of 
being  an  arrant  witoh,  for  she  made  him  do  just  as  she 


270  THE    PURITAN    AND    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

pleased.  "We  cannot  find  that  he  ever  succeeded  to 
the  title  of  his  uncle,  by  outliving  his  four  cousins, 
but  certain  it  is  that  both  he  and  Miriam  lived  long 
and  happily,  and  their  posterity  still  flourish  in  the 
ANCIENT  DOMINION. 


FINIS. 


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